THE  LIBRARY 

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THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

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THE 


PSYCHIC    FACTORS 


OF 


CIVILIZATION 


LESTER   F.  WARD 

AUTHOR  OF   "DYNAMIC   SOCIOLOGY' 


BOSTON,  U.S.A. 

GINN   &    COMPANY,    PUBLISHERS 

1893 


Copyright,  1892, 
By  LESTER   F.   WARD. 


ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED. 


(Ifjc  TLthtneeum  ptcss 

GINN  8c  COMPANY,    BOSTON,   U  S.A. 


i8n 


The  true  place  which  mind  fills  in  the  scheme  of  nature  is  the  most 
important  truth  to  be  learned  in  the  study  of  philosophy.  .  .  .  The  true 
order  of  development  is  from  the  non-psychic  to  the  psychic,  and  from  the 
less  psychic  to  the  more  psychic,  and  not,  as  is  popularly  supposed,  from 
the  highest  toward  the  lowest  manifestations  of  this  property.  This  great 
psychic  paradox  lies  at  the  base  of  philosophy,  and  has  ever  been  its  funda- 
mental bane. — -Dynamic  Sociology,  II,  76. 

Le  veritable  esprit  general  de  la  sociologie  dynamique  consiste  k  con- 
cevoir  chacun  de  ces  etats  sociaux  consdcutifs  comme  le  rdsultat  n^cessaire 
du  precedent  et  le  moteur  indispensable  du  suivant,  selon  le  lumineux 
axiome  du  grand  Leibnitz  :  Le  present  est  gros  de  Pavenir.  —  Auguste 
CoMTE  :  Philosophie  Positive^  IV,  263. 


PREFACE. 


What  is  writ  is  writ  — 

Would  it  were  worthier ! 

BVRON. 

J'ay  seulement  faict  icy  un  amas  de  fleurs  estrangieres,  n'y 
ayant  foumy  du  mien  que  le  filet  a  les  lier.  —  Montaigne  : 
De  la  Physionovzie,  p.  47. 

I  have  sought  in  this  book  to  set  forth  two  aspects  of  mind 
■ — its  cause  and  its  use.  But  these  two  are  really  but  one, 
since  its  use  is  its  cause. 

Since  I  put  the  finishing  strokes,  ten  years  ago,  upon  a 
system  of  social  science  which  I  called  Dynamic  Sociology  my 
mind  at  least,  if  not  my  pen,  has  been  at  work  along  two  lines 
suggested  by  the  recognized  imperfection  of  that  scheme.  I 
have  been  prompted,  on  the  one  hand,  to  build  the  super- 
structure higher,  and  on  the  other,  to  lay  the  foundations 
deeper.  In  the  first  of  these  directions  I  have  not  only  been 
impelled  by  my  own  inward  sense,  but  I  have  been  quite 
strongly  urged  by  others  who  thought  it  was  my  duty  to  make 
a  direct  application  of  the  principles  of  dynamic  sociology  to 
the  living  issues  of  the  times,  and  who  believed  it  better  that 
this  be  done  by  one  who  had  them  in  his  grasp  than  left  to 
others  who  might  never  fully  feel  their  true  significance. 

In  the  opposite  direction,  that  of  strengthening  the  founda- 
tions, the  pressure  has  been  entirely  from  within,  and  yet  it  is 
to  this  that  I  have  yielded,  partly  because  it  was  much 
stronger,  and  partly  because  I  realized  that  it  properly  belonged 
to  me  to  do,  while  the  other  more  properly  belongs  to  that 
trained  army  of  social  economists,  now  so  rapidly  increasing, 
who  are  studying  and  teaching  by  the  inductive  method. 


vi  Preface. 

The  object  of  the  present  work  is  to  determine  the  precise 
role  that  mind  plays  in  social  phenomena.  In  the  preface  to 
the  former  one  I  enumerated  five  of  the  comprehensive  princi- 
ples embodied  in  it  to  which  attention  had  not  previously  been 
specially  directed.  Three  of  these  related  to  the  domain  of 
mind.  As  I  am  still,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  alone  in  insisting 
upon  the  reality  and  importance  of  these  principles,  I  will  re- 
peat them  here  :  — 

"2.  The  theory  of  the  Social  Forces,  and  the  fundamental 
antithesis  which  they  imply  between  Feeling  and  Function. 

3.  The  contrast  between  these  true  Social  Forces  and  the 
guiding  influence  of  the  Intellect,  embodying  the  application 
of  the  Indirect  Method  of  Conation  and  the  essential  nature 
of  Invention,  of  Art,  and  of  Dynamic  Action. 

4.  The  superiority  of  Artificial,  or  Teleological,  Processes 
over  Natural,  or  Genetic,  Processes." 

I  then  recognized,  and  so  stated  in  the  same  preface,  that 
there  had  been  "adumbrations"  of  most  or  all  of  these  prin- 
ciples, but  the  reader  of  the  present  work  will  perceive  that 
all  I  said  of  them  in  the  earlier  one  was  itself  only  an  adum- 
bration of  the  full  truth  as  I  have  here  sought  to  present  it. 
I  need  not  say,  however,  that  I  have  undertaken  considerably 
more  than  merely  to  expand  the  various  conceptions  vaguely 
hinted  at  or  somewhat  clearly  set  forth  in  1883  ;  I  have 
joined  others  with  them  and  constructed  out  of  all  the  data 
that  lay  at  my  hand  what  may  without  exaggeration  be  re- 
garded as  a  practically  distinct  system,  albeit  closely  connected 
with  and  directly  affiliated  upon  the  other. 

Partly  to  show  this  affiliation  and  enable  the  reader  to  ap- 
preciate, and  if  desired,  to  follow  out  the  intimate  relations 
and  connections  that  bind  the  two  systems  together,  and 
partly  to  indicate  to  what  extent  the  leading  tenets  of  the 
new  were  foreshadowed  in  the  old  scheme,  I  have  intro- 
duced as  preludes  to  all  chapters  and  parts  for  which  they 
could  be  found,  passages  from  Dynamic  Sociology  embodying, 


Preface.  vii 

if  not  the  central  thought,  at  least  some  collateral  or  subor- 
dinate idea  involved  in  the  discussion  to  follow.  In  a  few 
cases  I  have  borrowed  such  passages  from  some  of  the  nu- 
merous contributions  of  a  more  or  less  popular  character 
which  I  have  made  since  the  appearance  of  that  work.  Some 
chapters,  however,  there  are  which  have  had  such  a  modern 
origin  in  my  own  mind  that  no  such  earlier  expressions  could 
be  found. 

In  addition  to  passages  of  this  class,  designed  to  indicate 
the  growth  within  me  of  the  general  scheme,  and  thus  by 
historical  associations  to  aid  the  reader  in  his  endeavor  to 
travel  with  me  along  the  same  road,  I  have  hoped  not  merely 
to  embellish  the  work  but  in  a  certain  way  to  strengthen  it 
by  putting  at  the  heads  of  the  chapters  in  the  form  of 
mottos  the  thoughts  of  others  that  seem  to  embody  or  fore- 
shadow the  principles  involved.  These  utterances  of  the 
poets,  prophets,  and  wise  men  of  all  ages  show  that  there  is 
scarcely  a  thought  or  a  truth  that  has  not  found  expression 
in  some  form,  and  that  no  scheme  can  hope  to  do  more  than 
organize  ideas  already  expressed,  and  focalize  the  scattered 
light  that  pervades  the  intellectual  world.  At  the  same  time 
the  rarity  of  such  utterances  —  the  search  required  to  find  an 
expression  of  truths  so  vitally  important  —  is  more  a  matter  of 
surprise  than  their  actual  discovery,  and  abundantly  proves 
the  need  of  systematic  efforts  to  collect  them  together,  ar- 
range them  in  logical  order,  and  bring  their  combined  weight 
to  bear  upon  the  thought  and  action  of  the  age.  I  have  thus 
sought  to  make  this  work  something  more  than  the  product 
of  a  single  brain  ;  I  have  sought  to  make  it  embody  the  wis- 
dom of  the  world  so  far  as  it  relates  to  this  theme.  Those 
who  prefer  may  regard  it  as  a  collection  of  exotic  flowers  of 
thought  for  which  I  have  only  furnished  the  thread  of  logic 
that  ties  them  together. 

L.  F.  \\\ 

Washington,  June  i8,  1893. 


CONTENTS. 


INTKODUCTION. 

Nature  of  the  social  forces  and  mode  of  controlling  them.  —  The  present 
work  devoted  to  the  expansion  of  these  two  principles.  —  Both  aspects  of  the 
subject  psychological.  —  Mind  popularly  restricted  to  intellect  and  the  feel- 
ings ignored.  —  Subjective  and  objective  psychology.  —  Illogical  classifi- 
cations.—  The  causational  factor  ignored.  —  Practical  side  of  objective 
psychology  also  ignored.  —  An  undiscovered  faculty.  —  Anew  psychology. 
—  Theorems  to  be  established. 


PART    I. 

SUBJECTIVE    FACTORS. 
CHAPTER   I. 

TWO    KINDS    OF    PHILOSOPHY. 

Cosmology  and  psychology.  —  Leading  cosmologies.  —  Metaphysical 
speculation.  —  Twofold  revolution  in  philosophy.  —  Modern  psychology  as 
the  basis  of  sociology. 

CHAPTER    n. 

THE    DUAL    NATURE    OF    MIND. 

The  most  difficult  problems  the  first  to  be  attacked.  —  Laws  of  thought 
studied  before  the  senses.  —  Will  and  soul.  —  Epistemology.  —  Descartes, 
Berkeley,  Hume,  Locke.  —  Kant's  division  of  mind  into  sense  and  intellect. 
—  Reid  and  Stewart.  —  Connection  between  the  departments  of  mind. 


X  Contents. 

CHAPTER   III. 

THE    PSYCHOLOGIC    PROCESS. 

Indifferent  sensation.  —  Perception.  —  Subjective  and  objective  psy- 
chology. —  Specialization  of  the  finger  tips  for  perception.  —  Sense  of  touch 
more  specialized  objectively  than  other  senses.  —  Taste  and  smell  subjec- 
tively specialized.  —  Prof.  Clarke's  theory  of  odors. —  Sense  of  hearing. — 
Sense  of  sight.  —  Material  mediums  of  the  senses. 

CHAPTER    IV. 

SUBJECTIVE    PSYCHOLOGY. 

Deals  with  sensations  and  their  combinations. —  Intensive  sensations. — 
Pain  and  pleasure  senses.  —  Auditory  and  visual  pleasure  emotional.  —  The 
emotional  sense.  —  External  and  internal  sensations.  —  The  sympathetic 
system  the  seat  of  the  emotions.  —  Sensation  and  emotion  distinguished. 

CHAPTER   V. 

OBJECTIVE    PSYCHOLOGY. 

Deals  with  perceptions  and  their  elaboration.  —  Registration  of  percep- 
tions. —  Elaboration  of  perceptions.  —  Conception.  — -Judgment.  — -  The  Pla- 
tonic idea.  —  Generalization.  —  Reason.  —  Memory  and  imagination.  —  The 
creative  faculty.  —  The  primary  intellectual  process,  intuition. 

CHAPTER    VI. 

THE    CONATIVE    FACULTY. 

The  motor  apparatus  of  the  nervous  system. —  Only  responds  to  intensive 
sensations.  —  Reflex  action.  —  The  sensori-motor  apparatus.  —  Of  the  sym- 
pathetic system.  —  The  nervous  system  a  compound  individual.  —  Supreme 
and  subordinate  centers.  —  How  connected.  —  The  ideo-motor  apparatus.  — 
Rational  actions.  —  Why  often  unsafe.  —  Will.  —  Mental  physics.  —  The 
popular  fallacy. 

CHAPTER    VII. 

ORIGIN    AND    FUNCTION    OF    PLEASURE    AND    PAIN. 

The  mission  of  science  to  dispel  mystery.  —  The  origin  of  evil.  —  Pleas- 
ure a  greater  mystery  than  pain.  —  Neither  necessary.  —  Death  not  neces- 


Contents.  xi 

sary.  —  Immortal  germs.  —  Pleasure  and  pain  the  conditions  to  existence. 

—  Primary  sensations  intensive.  —  Sense  of  feeling  a  means  of  warning. 

—  Pain  protective.  —  Purpose  of  pleasure.  —  Pleasure  and  pain  not  oppo- 
sites.  —  Each  has  its  specialized  nervous  apparatus.  —  Both  positive. — 
Nature  has  no  concern  for  either.  —  Pleasure  means  life;  pain,  death. — 
Fallacy  of  asceticism. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

NATURE    OF    THE    SOUL, 

Reasons  for   retaining   the   word   soul.  —  Immortality.  —  Always   made 
capable  of  pleasure  and  pain.  —  Defined  as  the  feelings  taken  collectively. 

—  The  full  definition.  —  Why  not  critically  studied  by  philosophers.  —  Ten- 
dency to  degrade  the  feelings.  —  The  change  in  philosophy  from  the  reason 
to  the  soul.  —  The  birth  of  the  soul.  —  Its  development  in  geologic  time. 
The  soul  the  great  transforming  agent  in  society. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    DESIRE. 

Restraints  to  motor  action.  —  Desire  presupposes  memory.  —  Man  a 
theater  of  desires.  —  The  word  used  in  a  generic  sense.  —  The  various 
manifestations  of  desire.  —  Want.  —  Love.  —  Higher  cravings.  —  Various 
affections.  —  Conation.  —  Desire  a  form  of  pain.  —  Love  is  pain.  —  Desire 
always  seeks  satisfaction.  —  Satisfaction  is  termination.  —  Corollaries. — 
Desires  the  mainsprings  of  all  action.  —  They  are  the  mind  forces. — 
Physics  vs.  psychics.  —  The  psychic  force  a  form  of  the  universal  force.  — 
How  desire  differs  from  other  pains.  —  Presentative  and  representative 
pleasures. —  Pleasure  consists  in  the  satisfaction  of  desire.  —  Desire  com- 
pared to  itching.  — •  Consequences  of  satisfying  desire.  —  Claims  of  pessi- 
mism.—  They  must  be  met  by  argument. 

CHAPTER   X. 

THE    WILL    OF    SCHOPENHAUER. 

Schopenhauer's  two  philosophical  heresies.  —  Do  not  follow  from  his  two 
fundamental  principles.  —  His  pessimism.  —  His  will.  —  Equivalent  to  desire. 

—  Its  manifold  forms.  —  Superior  to  reason.  —  Primary,  intellect  secondary. 

—  Schopenhauer  produced  a  revolution  in  psychology. 


xii  Contents. 

CHAPTER   XL 

REFUTATION    OF    PESSIMISM. 

Pessimism  denies  the  existence  of  pleasure.  —  Meaning  of  satisfaction. — 
The  real  question.  —  The  answer.  —  The  optimistic  hallucination.  —  Its 
biologic    meaning.  —  Need    of    proof.  —  Proof    of    presentative    pleasure. 

—  Proof  of  representative  pleasure.  —  Are  the  sensations  continuous 
or  repeated? — Illustrations.  —  Pleasure  an  objective  reality.  —  Optimism 
exposed.  —  The  pessimistic  standpoint.  —  Pessimism  the  product  of  a  hos- 
tile social  state. —  Its  antidote  not  optimism,  but  meliorism. 

CHAPTER    Xn. 

HAPPINESS, 

Happiness  and  pleasure  fundamentally  the  same.  —  Definition. —  Health. 

—  Why  different  diseases  have  different  effects.  —  Connection  of  the  lower 
ganglionic  centers  with  the  supreme  consciousness.  —  Contentment  distin- 
guished from  happiness.  —  Freedom  from  pain.  —  Unsatisfied  desires.  — 
Satisfaction  of  desire.  —  The  higher  spiritual  needs.  —  Problem  of  greatest 
happiness. 

CHAPTER   Xni. 

FEELING,    FUNCTION,    AND    ACTION. 

Feeling.  —  Function.  —  Biological  utility.  —  Perfection  as  an  end.  — 
Evolution  as  an  end.  —  Production  of  organic  matter  as  an  end.  —  Feeling 
and  function  distinct.  —  Their  true  relation.  —  The  psychological  aspect 
distinguished  from  the  physiological.  —  Function  the  object  of  nature,  feel- 
ing that  of  the  creature.  —  The  struggle  between  nature  and  life.  —  The 
theater  of  action.  —  The  object  of  man  is  happiness.  —  Action.  —  Society 
the  sole  beneficiary.  —  The  threefold  truth. 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE    TRANSFORMING    AGENCY. 

Organic  development.  —  Its  one  neglected  phase.  —  Normal  and  extra- 
normal  agencies  in  evolution.  —  Characteristics  of  the  latter.  —  Date  of 
their  appearance.  —  Determined  by  nerve-structure.  —  Creatures  in  which 
active.  —  Identical  wath  soul.  —  Subjective  evolution.  —  Influence  of  insects 
upon    plants.  —  Origin    of   showy   flowers.  —  Of    attractive    and    nutritious 


Contents.  xiii 

fruits.  —  Sexual  transformations.  —  Female  supremacy.  —  Male  supremacy 
an  anomaly.  —  Taste  in  the  lower  creatures.  —  Same  as  in  man.  —  The 
developed  brain  a  secondary  sexual  character.  —  Intellect  a  comparatively 
modern  product,  —  A  twofold  accident.  —  Transformations  wrought  by 
human  action. 

CHAPTER   XV. 

THE    DYNAMICS    OF    MIND. 

A  dynamic  agent  in  every  true  science.  —  Metaphysics  not  a  science 
because  without  such.  —  The  heart  of  nature.  —  The  head  of  nature.  — 
Feeling  the  mind-force.  —  Dignity  of  feeling.  —  The  worth  of  woman.  — 
Desire  a  true  natural  force.  —  Obeys  the  Newtonian  laws  of  motion.  — 
Compared  to  physical  forces.  —  Love  and  the  magnet.  —  Electricity.  —  The 
proof  direct  and  not  found  in  such  analogies. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

SOCIAL    ACTION. 

What  should  constitute  history.  —  Social  action.  —  Psychologic  basis  of 
sociology.  —  Physical  inferiority  of  man.  —  Great  transformations  wrought 
by  man.  —  These  unintended  by  nature.  —  They  constitute  material  civiliza- 
tion. —  Not  necessarily  progressive.  —  Society  not  yet  conscious  of  its  end. 

—  Individualism.  —  Grounds  of  social  reformers.  —  Arguments  of  individu- 
aHsts.  —  Social  inadaptation.  —  Absurdities  of  individualism.  —  Social  re- 
form a  constant  necessity. 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

SOCIAL    FRICTION. 

The  restricted  field  of  ethics.  —  Conduct  distinguished  from  action. —  No 
progress  in  moral  precepts.  —  No  scientific  basis  of  ethics.  —  Ethical 
system  of  Herbert  Spencer.  —  The  moral  sense  dulled  by  iteration  of 
precepts.  —  Ethics  better  taught  historically.  —  Moral  character  cannot  be 
improved  by  teaching.  —  Demoralizes  the  teacher.  —  Egotism  engendered. 

—  The  moral  state  a  product  of  social  evolution.  —  The  moral  code  self- 
enforcing. —  Immorality  to  self.  —  Supererogatory  conduct.  —  Charity. — 
The  scientific  objection  to  charity.  —  Tips  and  fees.  —  Alms-giving.  — 
Superficial  treatment  of  ethics.  —  The  ethical  and  sociological  standpoints 
opposite.  —  The  ethical  stage  transitional.  —  Removal  of  the  necessity  for 


xi\'  Contents. 

moral  acts. — -The  real  moral  progress.  —  Its  cause.  —  Positive  moral 
progress.  —  Ethical  science  suicidal.  —  Liberation  of  social  energy.  — 
Relativity  of  evil.  —  No  essentially  evil  propensities.  —  Desires,  like  other 
forces,  need  only  to  be  controlled  to  be  rendered  useful. 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE    SOCIAL    FORCES. 

One  of  the  two  primary  doctrines  of  Dynamic  Sociology.  —  All  important 
truths  very  simple.  —  Foundations  of  the  doctrine  require  strengthening.  — 
The  philosophy  of  desire.  —  Underlying  principles. —  Science  of  mind. — 
Sociology  rests  on  psychology,  not  directly  on  biology.  —  Force  of  the  term 
"  dynamic."  —  Its  use  in  the  other  sciences.  —  It  is  in  subjective  psychology 
that  the  dynamic  principle  inheres.  —  Social  dynamics.  —  Adumbrations  of 
the  principle.  —  Its  popular  recognition.  —  Slow  progress  of  great  truths. 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

RECAPITULATION, 

The  twofold  nature  of  mind.  —  Classification  of  sensations.  —  Percep- 
tion. —  Conception.  —  Judgment.  —  Other  faculties.  —  Subjective  psycliol- 
ogy. — The  emotional  sense.  • — Pleasure  and  pain.  —  Desire.  —  The  trans- 
forming agency,  or  soul.  —  Chief  results  attained.  —  The  three  objects  or 
ends.  —  Mental  physics  or  psychics.  —  Social  transformations.  —  The  three 
objects  applied  to  man.  —  Social  physics. 


PART    11. 

OBJECTIVE    FACTORS. 
CHAPTER   XX. 

THE    OMITTED    FACTOR. 

Intuition.  —  The  human  attribute.  —  Effects  of  the  omission.  —  Man  not 
wholly  under  the  influence  of  biologic  law.  —  Cosmic  epochs.  —  The  mind 
epoch.  —  Test  of  a  human  being.  —  The  progressive  faculty.  —  The  recog- 
nized faculties  not  advantageous. 


Contents,  xv 


CHAPTER    XXL 

INTUITION. 

A  new  application  of  an  old  term.  —  Principle  of  advantage.  —  The  direct 
method  of  conation. —  Inadequacy  of  this  method.  —  Practical  devices 
of  nature. —  Psychic  development  secular. —  Initial  steps.  —  Obstacles  to 
the  satisfaction  of  desire.  —  Advantage  of  persistent  activity.  —  Directive 
brain  centers.  —  The  stage  of  exploration.  —  Experiments  with  the  frog.  — 
Incipient  intuition.  —  Stage  of  full  intuition.  —  Psychic,  not  parallel  with 
biologic  development. —  In  various  animals.  —  The  practical  quality  of  the 
intellect.  —  The  ultimate  analysis.  —  Psychic  attraction.  —  A  perception  of 
relations.  —  Anschauung.  —  Origin  in  the  emotional  sense.  — -  The  new 
intuition  is  the  incipient  intellect. 

CHAPTER    XXn. 

INTUITIVE    PERCEPTION. 

Intellect  developed  as  an  aid  to  the  will.  —  Cunning  as  its  fundamental 
form.  —  Its  practical  character.  —  It  is  a  perception  of  relations.  —  Ex- 
amples among  animals. —  How  called  out  in  the  reproductive  process. — - 
Brain  as  a  secondary  sexual  character.  —  Its  exercise  in  females.  —  Influ- 
ence of  the  maternal  instinct.  —  Feigning.  —  Animal  sagacity.  —  Examples. 

—  Synonyms  of  cunning.  —  Indirection    the    central    idea.  —  Manifestation 
in  man. 

CHAPTER    XXHI. 

INTUITIVE    REA.SON. 

Shrewdness  and  tact. —  Influence  of  foresight.  —  Genesis  of  property.  — 
The  human  struggle  for  existence.  —  Influence  of  institutions.  —  Acquisi- 
tiveness. —  Business.  —  Multiplication  of  the  objects  of  desire.  —  General 
ignorance  of  human  nature.  —  The  arts  of  speech  and  silence.  —  Distinct 
from  intelligence.  —  Ambition,  how  realized.  —  Political  intrigue  and  dem- 
agogy- —  Diplomacy.  —  Strategy.  —  Unity  of  all  these  types.  —  A  form  of 
reason. 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 

PRINCIPLE    OF    DECEPTION. 

The  key  to  success.  —  Proofs  from   etymology.  —  Deception  in  animals. 

—  In  man.  —  Aided  by  optimism. — Dread  of  poverty.  —  Concealment  of 


xviii  Contents. 

thropomorphism.  —  Mythology.  —  Theological  and  rational  cosmology.  — 
Speculation  upon  mind. —  Modern  psychology.  —  Recognition  of  subjective 
psychology.  — Logic  and  mathematics.  —  Abstract  reasoning.  —  Its  biologic 
inutility.  —  The  growth  of  the  speculative  faculties  as  a  proof  of  the  trans- 
missibility  of  acquired  characters.  —  Speculative  genius  as  a  factor  of 
civilization. 

CHAPTER   XXXII. 

THE    INTELLECT. 

Phylogenesis  of  mind.  —  The  restless  search  for  causes.  —  Ccynparisons 
with  biology.  —  Intellect  a  psychosis.  —  No  mystery  involved.  —  Mind  a 
property  of  matter.  ^ — The  ontological  obstacle  to  psychology.  —  Intellect 
vs.  consciousness.  —  Supreme  and  subordinate  consciousness.  —  Does  feel- 
ing accompany  ideation? — Intellect  vs.  knowledge.  —  Subjective  and 
objective  knowledge.  —  Experience.  —  Acquisition  of  knowledge.  —  The 
two  intellectual  stimuli. —  Intelligence. —  Intellect  not  a  force.  —  The 
prevalent  error. —  In  what  sense  a  cause.  —  Its  modus  operandi.  —  Nature 
easily  managed.  —  Thought  inheres  in  all  work.  —  Desires  are  blind. — 
Instinct  as  a  substitute  for  intellect.  —  Psychology  of  intellectual  direction. 
—  Conversion  of  means  into  ends.  —  The  mechanical  "  purchase."  —  Classi- 
fication of  intellectual  activities.  —  Bodily  actions.  —  Speech.  —  Written 
communication.  —  Man  as  a  rational  being. 


PART    III. 

SOCIAL    SYNTHESIS    OF    THE    FACTORS. 
CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

THE  ECONOMY  OF  NATURE  AND  THE  ECONOMY  OF  MIND. 

Definitions.  —  The  fundamental  distinction.  —  The  animal  economists.— 
Comte.  —  Spencer.  —  Uniformity  of  natural  phenomena.  —  Political  econ- 
omy based  upon  this  fact.  —  The  fundamental  economic  error.  —  The 
omitted  psychic  factor.  —  Two  kinds  of  economics. — -Animal  economics. — 
Supposed  economy  of  nature.  —  False  idea  of  perfect  adaptation. —  Cause 
of  adaptation.  —  Means  to  adaptation  not  economical.  —  Prodigality  of 
nature.  —  Huxley.  —  Darwin.  —  Examples.  —  Views   of   Prof.    Youmans.  — 


Contents.  xix 

Of  Herbert  Spencer.  —  Of  Asa  Gray.  —  Progress  achieved  through  nature's 
method.  —  Not  a  rational  method.  —  The  law  of  biologic  economics. — 
Importance  of  certainty.  —  The  twofold  formula.  —  Nature  both  practical 
and  prodigal.  —  Nature's  failures  and  successes.  —  Parallels  in  the  physical 
world.  —  Exaggeration  of  irregularities.  —  Extinct  and  waning  types.  — 
Character  of  genetic  progress.  —  The  rational  method  imitated  by  nature. 
—  The  two  methods  contrasted.  —  The  weapons  of  animals  all  organic.  — 
The  rational  the  only  economical  method.  — •  Further  contrasts.  —  The 
environment  transforms  the  animal;  man  transforms  the  environment. — 
Superior  economy  of  latter  process.  —  Economy  of  time.  —  Of  energy.  — 
Dependence  of  man  upon  art.  —  Meaning  of  labor  and  production. — 
Civilization. —  The  psychologic  the  reverse  of  the  biologic  law. —  The 
biologic  law.  —  The  organic  environment.  —  Competition.  —  Does  not  secure 
the  survival  of  the  fittest.  —  This  proved  by  domestication.  —  This  truth 
early  perceived. —  Human  progress  the  result  of  the  struggle  with  competi- 
tion.—  The  success  only  partial.  —  Intellect  itself  a  biologic  product. — 
Competition  modified  by  reason.  —  Competition  in  society  ephemeral.  — 
Tendency  to  combine.  —  Capital  and  labor.  —  Competition  between  com- 
binations. —  Trusts.  —  Monopolies.  —  Waste  prevented  by  combination.  — • 
Aggressive  competition.  —  Explained  by  Prof.  Patten.  —  Displays  the 
element  of  mind.  —  Influences  conducive  to  aggressive  competition. — 
Struggle  to  escape  productive  labor.  —  Aggressive  competition  an  em- 
bodiment of  business  shrewdness.  —  Involves  deception.  —  Society  not 
rational.  —  Represents  psychologically  a  very  low  organism.  —  Comparison 
of  aggressive  with  free  competition.  —  Cause  of  the  pessimistic  habit  of 
thought.  —  Competition  distinguished  from  free  individual  activity.  —  The 
latter  secured  by  regulation.  —  An  illustration.  —  Remedy  for  the  evils  of 
competition  and  combination.  —  Psychologic  basis  of  economics.  —  The 
prevalent  political  economy.  —  Its  axioms  questioned.  —  Economic  para- 
doxes. —  The  prevailing  system  of  political  economy  only  applicable  to 
irrational  animals.  —  The  advent  of  reason  has  replaced  the  biologic  by  the 
psychologic  law. 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

MELIORISl\:. 

Psychic  factors  and  progressive  faculties.  —  Will  and  intellect.  —  The 
prevalent  optimistic  attitude.  —  Dissatisfaction  considered  unreasonable.  — 
Governmental  reform.  —  Origin  of  government.  —  Government  not  the  only 
human  institution.  —  Benefits  secured  by  government.  —  What  constitutes 
the  artificial  ?  —  Laissez  faire.  —  The  artificial  superior  to  the  natural.  — 
The  spirit    of    improvement.  —  Civilization    and    progress    not    necessarily 


XX  Contents. 

synonymous.  —  Definition  of  progress.  —  Unequal  distribution.  —  Tlie  prob- 
lem. —  Need  of  social  action.  —  Social  friction.  —  The  social  anachronism. 
—  The  "  human  nature  "  argument.  —  Human  nature  not  essentially  bad.  — 
How  rapacity  may  be  done  away.  —  A  social,  not  an  ethical  question. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

SOCIAL    CONSCIOUSNESS. 

Ambiguity  of  the  word  consciousness.  —  Social  units.  —  Partial  or  incom- 
plete social  aggregates.  —  Universal  or  complete  social  aggregates.  —  Their 
uniform  object.  —  Their  powers.  —  Government.  —  School  of  misarchists.  — 
Who  belong  to  a  government  .-^  —  Government  as  the  organ  of  social  con- 
sciousness. —  Analogue  of  the  lower  ganglia.  —  Consciousness  is  a  knowl- 
edge of  a  feeling.  —  Further  analogies.  —  The  social  organism  theory  only 
applicable  to  the  psychic  aspect  of  the  case. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

THE    SOCIAL    WILL. 

The  individual  will.  —  All  governments  representative. —  Importance  of 
a  homogeneous  people.  —  Governmental  failures.  —  Their  cause.  —  Analogy 
in  the  individual.  —  All  failures  due  to  ignorance.  —  Government  applies 
the  direct  method  of  conation. —  Functions  of  government. —  Narrow 
views  that  prevail.  —  Sensitiveness  of  modern  governments  to  the  social 
will.  —  The  powers  of  government  derived  not  from  the  consent  but  from 
the  expressed  will  of  the  governed. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

THE    SOCIAL    INTELLECT. 

The  two  fundamental  truths. —  Early  manifestations  of  the  collective 
intellect.  —  Attractive  legislation.  —  Ingenuity  in  law  making.  —  No  naturally 
evil  propensities.  —  Desires  can  be  changed.  —  Education.  —  The  organ- 
ization of  happiness.  —  Legislative  reform.  —  The  movement  already  begun. 

—  The  committee  as  a  scientific  body.  —  Administration. —  Bureau  legisla- 
tion. —  Value  of  history.  —  The  statistical  method.  —  No  revolution  needed. 

—  Looking  backward. 


Contents.  xxi 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

SOCIOCRACY. 

Social  science  and  social  art.  —  Feeble  integration  of  the  social  con- 
sciousness.—  Initial  means  to  social  progress.  —  Present  and  past  govern- 
ments empirical.  —  Forms  of  government.  — •  Names  no  index  to  their  real 
character.  —  Government  a  mode  of  acquisition.  —  Fear  of  government.  — 
Egoistic  spirit  not  changed.  —  Advantage  taken  of  the  weakness  of  democ- 
racy. —  Physiocracy.  —  Plutocracy.  —  Its  specious  arguments.  —  Political 
economy.  —  The  plutocratic  regime.  —  The  iron  law  of  wages.  —  Evils 
entailed.  —  Misarchy  fostered  by  plutocracy.  —  The  psychic  aspect.  —  Gov- 
ernment fails  to  protect.  —  Power  of  plutocracy.  —  Its  extortions.  —  The 
remedy.  — Sociocracy  .  —  Society  as  an  individual.  —  An  insensible  grada- 
tion from  democracy  to  sociocracy.  —  Majority  rule.  —  Party  government. 
—  Parties  not  necessary.  —  The  business  of  a  nation.  —  Evils  of  partisan- 
ship.—  Sample  problems  for  solution.  —  Postal  telegraphy.  —  Monopoly 
prices.  —  No  change  in  human  nature  required.  —  Ideal  systems.  —  Signs 
of  an  approaching  change.  —  The  industrial  party.  —  Removal  of  social 
evils.  —  Provinces  of  social  and  individual  action.  —  Natural  monopoly.  — 
The  scientific  method.  —  State  industries.  —  Social  experimentation. — 
Statement  of  problems.  —  Enlargement  of  state  functions. 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  any  department  of  phenomena  the  laws,  whose  establishment  gives  it 
the  character  of  a  true  science,  depend  upon  the  operation  of  certain  /orces 
prevailing  within  that  department  which  underlie,  or  rather  constitute,  the 
causes  of  which  the  phenomena  are  the  effects.  —  Dynamic  Sociology, 
I,  458-459- 

Quoique  la  conception  statique  de  I'organisme  social  doive,  par  la  nature 
du  sujet,  constituer  la  premiere  base  rationelle  de  toute  la  sociologie,  comme 
je  viens  de  I'expliquer,  il  faut  neanmoins  reconnaitre  que  non-seulement  la 
dynamique  sociale  en  forme  la  partie  la  plus  directement  intdressante, 
principalement  de  nos  jours,  mais  surtout,  sous  le  point  de  vue  purement 
scientifique,  qu'elle  seule  acheve  de  donner,  a  Tensemble  de  cette  science 
nouvelle,  son  caractere  philosophique  1,;  plus  tranche,  en  faisant  directement 
pr^valoir  la  notion  qui  distingue  le  plus  la  sociologie  proprement  dite  de  la 
simple  biologic,  c'est  a  dire  I'idee  m^re  du  progres  continu,  ou  plutot 
du  developpement  graduelle  I'humanite.  —  Auguste  Comte  :  Philosophie 
Positive,  IV,  262. 

Die  Philosophen  vor  Kant,  wenige  ausgenommen,  haben  die  Erklarung 
des  Hergangs  unseres  Erkennens  von  der  verkehrten  Seite  angegriffen. 
Sie  giengen  namlich  dabei  aus  von  einer  sogenannten  Seele,  einem  Wesen, 
dessen  innere  Natur  und  eigenthiimliche  Funktion  im  Denken  bestande, 
und  zwar  ganz  eigentlich  im  abstrakten  Denken,  mit  blossen  Begriffen,  die 
ihr  um  so  voUkommener  angehdrten,  als  sie  von  aller  Anschaulichkeit  ferner 
lagen.  —  Schopenhauer  :   Welt  als  IVille  und  Vorstellung,  II,  312-313. 

While  many  of  the  minor  doctrines  promulgated  in  Dynamic 
Sociology  in  1883  have  been  laid  hold  of  by  different  classes 
of  writers  and  made  the  basis  for  further  sociologie  and  eco- 
nomic discussion,  it  is  noteworthy  that  the  two  most  fundamental 
and  important  of  all,  viz.,  those  relating  to  the  nature  of  the 
social  forces  and  to  the  control  of  those  forces,  have  been,  so 
far  as  I  am  aware,  completely  ignored.     This  fact  alone  would 


2  lutj^odtiction. 

seem  to  justify  a  renewed  attempt  to  draw  attention  to  these 
two  paramount  considerations.  If  it  cannot  be  shown  that 
society  is  a  domain  of  true  natural  forces  the  claim  to  the 
possibility  of  a  social  science  must  be  abandoned.  Supposing 
such  a  claim  to  be  sustained,  if  it  cannot  be  shown  that  social 
phenomena  can  be  controlled  as  physical  phenomena  are  con- 
trolled by  a  knowledge  of  the  laws  according  to  which  they 
occur,  the  hope  of  improving  the  social  condition  of  man  as  his 
physical  condition  has  been  improved  must  be  given  up.  All 
therefore  that  is  essentially  dynamic  in  sociology,  whether  in 
the  more  literal  sense  of  dealing  with  a  force,  or  in  the  freer 
sense  of  involving  movement  or  progress,  hinges  directly  upon 
these  two  doctrines,  and  must  stand  or  fall  with  them. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  the  present  work  to  elaborate  these  two 
conceptions  and  to  show  what  scientific  foundation  they  possess. 
They  are  sufficiently  distinct  to  be  treated  separately,  and  their 
logical  order  is  that  in  which  they  have  been  mentioned.  This 
renders  possible  a  convenient  subdivision  of  the  work  into  its 
two  parts,  the  first  part  dealing  exclusively  with  the  forces 
of  society  and  the  second  with  the  mode  of  directing  those 
forces. 

A  closer  view  will  show  that  this  subdivision  has  a  wider  justi- 
fication in  the  essential  nature  of  the  problem  itself.  At  the 
same  time  it  will  show  that  the  two  questions  to  be  discussed 
are  not  so  greatly  unlike  in  their  internal  elements  as  not  to 
belong  to  the  same  general  branch  of  science.  Indeed,  a  little 
inspection  of  them  will  reveal  the  fact  that  in  dealing  with 
either  the  one  or  the  other  we  are  necessarily  dealing  with  the 
phenomena  of  mind,  but  at  the  same  time  it  is  clear  that  the 
first  relates  to  a  very  different  department  of  mind  from  that 
to  which  the  second  relates.  In  other  words,  we  have  before 
us  a  twofold  psychic  problem,  and  it  should  surprise  no  one  to 
learn  that  sociology  as  a  whole  rests  primarily  upon  psychology. 
This  is  its  natural  basis  in  the  hierarchy  of  the  sciences.  Even 
the  social  activities  of  animals  are  due  to  their  psychic  faculty. 


lutrod^iction.  3. 

and  this  is  as  true  of  bees  and  ants  as  it  is  of  wolves  or  buffa- 
loes. Human  society,  therefore,  which  is  the  highest  product 
of  evolution,  naturally  depends  upon  mind  which  is  the  highest 
property  of  matter. 

The  chief  difficulty  in  enforcing  this  truth  lies  in  the  vague- 
ness of  the  popular  conception  of  mind.  It  will  be  shown  in 
its  proper  place  how  it  has  come  about  that  most  persons  are 
in  the  habit  of  including  under  the  term  mind  only  so  much 
as  is  properly  embraced  by  the  word  intellect.  The  feelings 
and  emotions  are  excluded,  and  it  becomes  necessary  to  explain 
that,  in  its  true  scientific  sense,  mind  properly  includes  all 
phenomena  above  those  which  are  simply  vital,  or  relate  only 
to  life. 

The  first  task  is  therefore  to  show  that  it  is  this  little  studied 
and  imperfectly  understood  side  of  mind  that  constitutes  the 
groundwork  of  the  social  forces.  Reasons  will  be  given  for 
looking  upon  this  affective  faculty  or  department  of  mind  as 
subjective,  in  contradistinction  to  the  thinking  faculty,  which 
will  be  looked  upon  as  objective.  These  two  phases  or  depart- 
ments of  mind  constitute  a  basis  for  the  subdivision  of  the 
science  of  psychology  into  its  two  great  natural  branches,  and 
we  have  subjective  psychology  on  the  one  hand  and  objective 
psychology  on  the  other.  These  branches  of  the  science  are 
capable  of  being  treated  separately,  though  not  independently. 
Though  they  are  but  the  obverse  and  reverse  of  the  same  coin, 
still,  as  much  study  may  be  devoted  to  the  separate  inscriptions 
on  the  two  sides  as  each  may  require. 

So  simple  and  natural  is  this  subdivision  of  psychology  that 
the  wonder  is  that  it  has  not  always  been  employed.  Yet  so 
far  is  this  from  being  the  case  that  Kant  was  the  first  philoso- 
pher distinctly  to  formulate  it,  and  he  immediately  abandoned 
it  and  seemed  to  regard  the  objective  branch  as  constitufing 
the  whole  of  philosophy.  Most  modern  writers  on  mind,  as 
well  as  all  ancient  ones,  likewise  either  ignore  the  subjective 
branch,  or  recognize  it  only  in  its  highest  and  most  derivative 


4  Introduction. 

aspect,  viz.,  in  the  will  or  conative  faculty,  which  they  do  not 
analyze  or  trace  to  its  source  in  simpler  phenomena.  Even  so 
logical  a  writer  as  Mr.  Alexander  Bain,  as  shown  by  the  titles 
of  his  two  important  works  on  "The  Senses  and  the  Intellect," 
and  "The  Emotions  and  the  Will,"  which  appeared  in  this 
order,  does  not  adopt  the  simple  classification  I  have  indicated, 
but  uses  the  Senses  to  introduce  the  intellect  directly,  and 
deals  with  the  Emotions  afterward  as  if  they  constituted  all 
there  is  of  the  feelings. 

Finally,  no  one  seems  to  have  seen  in  the  subjective  phenom- 
ena of  mind  any  great  causational  factor  as  the  motive  power 
of  human  activities  or  as  a  basis  for  the  scientific  treatment  of 
social  phenomena  ;  and  this  is  as  true  of  those  who  are  devot- 
ing themselves  to  social  science  as  to  those  who  confine  their 
labors  to  any  department  of  mental  science. 

The  second  task  will  be  to  point  out  in  what  manner  the 
social  forces  can  be  brought  under  the  control  of  the  intellect. 
Here  it  is  true,  we  are  fairly  back  in  the  well-trodden  field  of 
objective  psychology.  It  is  in  this  field  that  all  the  great 
thinkers  of  past  ages  have  displayed  the  highest  flights  of 
genius.  Surely  we  ought  to  be  able  to  profit  largely  by  the 
labors  of  so  many  wise  men.  But  the  moment  we  approach 
the  problem  in  hand  we  find  that  it  has  been  practically 
untouched.  Although  fairly  within  the  great  domain  of 
intellect,  reason,  and  thought,  which  has  so  absorbed  the 
energies  of  the  race,  we  find  that  this  only  practical  avenue  to 
its  exploration  has  been  lost  sight  of,  and  that  all  this  wealth 
of  learning  and  depth  of  penetration  have  been  expended  on 
problems  that  are  without  value  to  sociology  and  incapable  of 
being  applied  to  any  system  looking  to  the  well  being  of  the 
race.  In  fact  it  would  seem  that  every  faculty  of  the  mind 
had  been  discovered,  analyzed,  and  exhaustively  described 
except  the  only  one  that  has  been  employed  in  the  work  of 
human  progress,  and  this  has  gone  unperceived.  The  so-called 
faculties  of  the  intellect  have  been  unduly  multiplied  to  furnish 


Introduction.  5 

material  for  metaphysical  research,  but  the  primary  and 
original  faculty,  that  which  distinguishes  intellect  from  every- 
thing else  and  has  lifted  man  above  the  brute,  cannot  be  found 
included  among  these  manifold  faculties. 

The  second  problem,  therefore,  viz.,  that  of  objective 
psychology  as  the  directive  element  in  sociology,  is  as  new 
and  unsolved  as  the  first,  and  we  find  ourselves  confronted 
not  only  by  a  new  sociology  but  by  a  new  psychology. 

The  following  then  are  the  two  theorems  which  require  to  be 
established  : 

1.  The  phenomena  of  subjective  psychology,  viz.,  the 
feelings  taken  collectively,  properly  called  the  soul  of  man, 
constitute  the  dynamic  element  of  society,  or  the  social  forces. 

2.  The  initial,  original,  or  primary  characteristic  of  objective 
psychology,  viz.,  the  intellect  proper,  or  intuitive  faculty,  con- 
stitutes the  directive  element  of  society,  and  only  means  by 
which  the  social  forces  can  be  controlled. 


PART   I. 

SUBJECTIVE   FACTORS. 


Imagine  the  world  peopled  by  myriads  of  living  and  active  beings  of  all 
kinds  and  forms  of  diversity.  They  are  all  in  contact  with  all  the  other  ob- 
jects existing  about  them,  and  a  prey  to  all  the  vicissitudes  which  a  con- 
stantly changing  world  presents.  Without  feeling,  they  must  be  without 
sense  or  intimation  of  danger,  and  rapidly,  through  frequent  exposure  to 
those  agencies  which  destroy  their  organization,  they  would,  one  by  one, 
disappear  before  the  adverse  elements  that  everywhere  surround  them. 
The  utter  extinction  of  every  form  under  these  circumstances  could  be  but 
a  question  of  time,  and  all  actual  life  would  vanish  from  the  globe.  But  let 
us  suppose  some  to  be  slightly  endowed  with  the  susceptibility  to  pain. 
These  would,  in  proportionate  degrees,  shun  the  agencies  calculated  to  de- 
stroy their  organization,  because  such  would  also  be,  on  the  hypothesis,  the 
ones  which  would  produce  pain.  The  forms  thus  endowed  would,  therefore, 
survive  longer  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  sensitiveness  to  pain.  Thus, 
under  the  now  clearly  understood  law  of  "  natural  selection,"  the  number  of 
sentient  beings  would  increase,  while  the  insentient  ones  would  become  ex- 
tinct, and  we  should  have  the  world  substantially  as  we  actually  see  it. — 
Dynamic  Sociology^  II,  114-115. 

If  we  open  almost  any  modern  text-book  of  psychology,  we  shall  find  mind 
divided  into  '  Intellect,  Feeling,  and  Will';  and  we  shall  be  told  that  these 
are  '  three  aspects  of  mind  '  —  that  the  '  Feelings  '  are  qualia  of  other  mental 
contents  and  inseparable  from  them.  We  dissent  from  this  view,  and  hope 
to  substantiate  our  rejection  of  it  by  considering  mental  phenomena  in  con- 
nection with  our  biological  origin  and  neurological  development.  —  Dr. 
Herbert  Nichols  :  Philosophical  Review,  July,   1892  (Vol.  I,  p.  404). 


CHAPTER  I. 

TWO    KINDS    OF    PHILOSOPHY. 

L'homme  n'est  qu'un  roseau  le  plus  faible  de  la  nature,  mais  c'est  un 
roseau  pensant.  —  Pascal:  Pensees,  II,  p.  84. 

All  that  which  until  recent  times  was  included  under  the 
name  philosophy,  but  which,  if  not  abandoned  altogether,  is 
now  divided  up  into  a  great  number  of  special  branches,  may- 
be comprehended  under  the  two  general  heads,  Cosmology  and 
Psychology.  As  soon  as  men  began  to  think  on  abstract  ques- 
tions they  set  about  trying  to  find  out  either  ivJicrc  they  were 
or  what  they  were  ;  i.e.,  they  either  studied  the  world  in  which 
they  found  themselves,  or  else  they  studied  themselves.  In 
studying  the  world  they  did  not  study  this  world  which  im- 
mediately surrounded  them,  but  all  worlds  —  the  great  world  or 
universe.  In  studying  themselves  they  did  not  study  the 
physical  man,  perceptible  to  the  senses,  but  the  immaterial 
part,  or  mind.  The  study  of  the  universe,  at  first  largely  theo- 
logical, and  later  more  and  more  naturalistic  and  scientific,  may 
be  properly  called  cosmology.  The  study  of  the  mind,  in  which 
at  first  the  human  and  the  divine  were  much  confounded,  but 
which  later  was  more  and  more  restricted,  and  at  last  definitely 
connected  with  the  brain  and  nervous  system,  now  goes  by  the 
name  of  psychology. 

Passing  over  the  great  theological  cosmologies  as  set  forth 
in  the  sacred  books  of  India,  China,  Assyria,  Persia,  Egypt, 
Phenicia,  and  Palestine,  mention  may  be  made  of  the  more 
rational  cosmologies  of  Greece,  such  as  those  of  Thales,  Pytha- 
goras, Anaximander,  Democritus,  the  Stoics,  and  Aristotle, 
those  of  the  Alexandrian  school,  and  that  of  Lucretius  in  Rome, 
the  Christian  cosmologies  of  St.  Augustine,  and  the  schoolmen, 
including  that  of  Cosmas  Indicopleustes,  and  among  moderns, 


lo  Subjective  Factors. 

the  more  rational  speculations  of  Bacon,  Hobbes,  Descartes, 
and  Spinoza,  culminating  in  the  substantial  discoveries  of 
Copernicus,  Kepler,  Galileo.  Leibnitz,  and  Newton. 

Looking  next  at  the  efforts  to  explore  the  mind,  it  may  be 
said  to  have  commenced  much  later  and  to  have  been  more 
exclusively  confined  to  the  great  intellectual  races  of  Europe. 
Beginning  with  Socrates  and  Plato,  the  movement  was  given  a 
definite  form  by  Aristotle,  who  drew  in  his  physics  and  meta- 
physics the  same  distinction  here  made  between  cosmology  and 
psychology.  In  medieval  times  metaphysics  was  a  leading 
branch  of  learning,  and  in  the  hands  of  Thomas  Aquinas, 
Duns  Scotus,  and  the  other  dialecticians,  was  brought  to  the 
highest  point  of  scholastic  nicety.  The  more  serious  study  of 
the  mind  was  inaugurated  by  Descartes,  Spinoza,  and  Locke, 
continued  by  Berkeley,  and  brought  to  its  greatest  perfection 
by  the  Scottish  and  German  schools,  Reid,  Hume,  Stewart, 
Brown,  Hamilton,  in  Scotland,  and  Kant,  Fichte,  and  Hegel, 
in  Germany. 

The  above  may  be  taken  as  a  bare  outline,  without  any  at- 
tempt at  completeness,  of  these  two  great  streams  of  human 
thought  down  to  the  beginning  of  the  scientific  era. 

Both  of  these  great  branches  of  philosophy  have  undergone 
within  the  past  hundred  years  an  almost  complete  revolution. 
This  has,  of  course,  been  due  primarily  to  the  ushering  in  of 
the  scientific  epoch,  by  which  not  only  have  the  students  of 
both  the  macrocosm  and  the  microcosm  been  put  into  posses- 
sion of  a  vastly  increased  fund  of  knowledge  about  which  to 
philosophize,  but  an  almost  entirely  new  method  of  reasoning 
has  been  made  necessary,  viz.,  the  inductive  or  scientific 
method.  In  addition  to  these  two  causes,  however,  there  is  a 
third,  which  is  perhaps  more  potent  than  either  of  the  others. 
This  is  a  change  in  the  attitude  or  spirit  of  inquiry.  Whereas 
before,  it  was  often  considered  sufficient  if  the  proof  of  any 
proposition  was  brought  forward  in  due  logical  form,  according 
to  Aristotle's  dictum  de  omni  et  mdlo,  and  the  truth  or  falsity 
of  the  premises  was  scarcely  ever  challenged,  under  the  scien- 


Tzvo  Kinds  of  Philosophy.  1 1 

tific  spirit  the  objective  truth  of  the  proposition  was  regarded 
as  the  real  end  to  be  attained,  instead  of  the  faultlessness  of 
the  reasoning  process. 

The  revokition  in  cosmologic  philosophy  brought  about  by 
these  causes  resulted,  as  already  intimated,  in  replacing  the 
barren  speculations  and  ingenious  theories  of  how  the  universe 
might  have  originated  and  might  be  constituted,  by  that  mass 
of  known  truth  and  of  legitimate  deductions  therefrom  which 
constitutes  to-day  the  philosophy  of  science. 

The  revolution  in  psychologic  philosophy,  also  due  to  the 
accumulation  of  facts  and  the  gradual  adoption  of  the  scientific 
method  and  spirit,  has  been  two-fold.  The  normal  advance, 
parallel  to  that  made  in  cosmology,  has  culminated  in  the  new 
science  of  psychology,  as  taught  in  the  leading  institutions  of 
learning,  often  under  the  names  physiological  and  experimental 
psychology  and  psycho-physics,  which  studies  the  phenomena 
of  mind  from  the  standpoint  of  scientific  observation  and  ex- 
perimentation. This  is  undoubtedly  the  true  road  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  mind  in  its  relations  to  body,  and,  though  still  a  young 
science,  it  promises  the  most  important  results. 

But  experimental  psychology  cannot  claim  to  have  done  away 
entirely  with  the  necessity  for  the  study  of  mind  from  the 
broader  and  more  strictly  philosophical  standpoint,  and  such  a 
study,  under  the  vivifying  influence  of  the  scientific  spirit,  has 
inaugurated  another  revolution  or  change  of  front  in  psychology 
which  has  already  begun  to  make  itself  felt,  and  promises 
a  grander  future  even  than  that  promised  by  the  experimental 
study  of  the  organs  of  the  mind.  This  enthusiastic  claim  will 
be  better  understood  when  it  is  shown  that  there  is  included  in 
this  promise  nothing  less  than  the  establishment  upon  a  psycho- 
logical basis  of  a  true  science  of  sociology  in  all  respects 
parallel  and  identical  with  the  other  less  complex  sciences  of 
the  hierarchy.  It  is  to  this  branch  of  psychologic  progress  that 
I  desire  to  direct  special  attention,  and  it  is  this  revolution  in 
the  study  of  mind  that  constitutes  at  once  the  inspiration  of 
this  book  and  the  hope  for  the  future  of  social  science. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    DUAL    NATURE    OF   MIND. 

The  fundamental  distinction  here  forshadowed  rises  immediately  out  of 
that  which  subsists  between  subject  and  object.  Sense  may  be  defined  as 
the  subjective,  intellect  as  the  objective,  side  of  rmnd.—Dyfiajnic  Sociology, 
I,  38 1. 

Nur  so  viel  scheint  zur  Einleitung  oder  Vorerinnerung  nothig  zu  sein, 
dass  es  zwei  Stamme  der  menschlichen  Erkenntniss  gebe,  die  viclleicht  aus 
einer  gemeinschaftlichen,  aber  uns  unbekannten  Wurzel  entspringen,  namlich 
Sinnlichkeit  und  Verstand,  durch  deren  ersteren  uns  Gegenstande  gegebcn, 
durch  den  zweiten  aber  gedadit  werden.  —  Kaxt  :  K^-itik  der  i-einen  Ver- 
minft,  pp.  51-52. 

Unsere  Erkenntniss  entspringt  aus  zwei  Grundquellen  des  Gemiiths, 
deren  die  erste  ist,  die  Vorstellungen  zu  empfangen  (die  Receptivitat  der 
Eindriicke),  die  zweite  das  Vermogen,  durch  jene  Vorstellungen  einen 
Gegenstand  zu  erkennen  (Spontaneitat  der  Begriffe);  durch  die  erstere  wird 
uns  ein  Gegenstand  gegeben,  durch  die  zweite  wird  dieser  im  Verhaltniss 
auf  diese  Vorstellung  (als  blose  Bestimmung  des  Gemiiths)  gedacht.  — 
Kant  :  Ibid.,  p.  81. 

We  do  not  infer  the  existence  of  objective  realities  by  any  act  of  the 
Reason;  in  fact,  the  strict  application  of  logical  processes  tends  rather  to 
shake  than  to  confirm  the  belief  in  the  External  World  ;  but  our  Minds 
being  at  first  subjectively  impressed  by  the  qualities  of  matter,  we  gradually 
learn  to  interpret  and  combine  the  impressions  they  make  upon  our  con- 
sciousness, so  as  to  derive  from  them  a  more  or  less  definite  notion  of  the 
object.  —  W.  B.  Carpenter:  Menial  Physiology,  pp.  177-78. 

It  has  become  a  trite  remark  that  the  most  difficult  problems 
presenting;  themselves  to  the  mind  of  man  for  solution  have 
always  been  the  first  to  be  attacked.  This  is  well  exemplified 
by  the  manner  in  which  the  early  philosophers  began  the  study 
of  themselves  as  distinguished  from  their  surroundings.  They 
did  not  begin  with  the  study  of  their  bodies,  much  less  of  the 


The  Dual  NatuTC  of  Mind.  13 

bodies  of  animals  that  are  constructed  upon  substantially  the 
same  general  plan  as  their  own.  They  began  by  the  study  of 
mind,  the  most  mysterious  and  intangible  subject  conceivable. 
Not  only  so,  but  instead  of  investigating  their  powers  of  tast- 
ing, smelling,  feeling,  hearing,  and  seeing  the  objects  about 
them,  which  would  have  been  comparatively  simple,  they 
plunged  at  once  into  all  the  intricacies  and  complexities  of 
the  thinking  and  knowing  faculty.  Plato  devoted  his  life  to 
the  elaboration  of  his  doctrine  of  the  idea,  Aristotle  laid  down 
the  laws  of  syllogistic  reasoning,  and  the  later  philosophers 
down  to  Kant  scarcely  did  more  than  iterate  and  imitate  the 
teachings  and  methods  of  these  ancient  masters  and  draw  out 
their  theories  of  mind  into  fine-spun  subtleties.  Mingled  with 
these  in  a  vague  way  were  prolonged  discussions  upon  the 
nature  of  the  human  will  and  the  divine  will,  which  was  held 
to  be  "free"  and  was  treated  as  something  wholly  sni  generis. 
Along  with  all  these  doctrines  there  also  went  profuse  disser- 
tations on  the  "soul,"  usually  conceived  as  a  distinct  entity 
and  endowed  with  immortality.  Thus  the  intellect,  the  will, 
and  the  soul,  each  ontologically  conceived,  became,  after  the 
universe  itself,  the  chief  subjects  of  philosophy.  The  critical 
analysis  of  modern  times  has  shown  each  of  these  fields  of  in- 
vestigation to  be  vast  and  involved,  its  facts  and  phenomena 
to  be  compound  and  complex,  and  its  history  and  genesis  to 
lead  far  back  through  the  labyrinth  of  organic  evolution  to  the 
dawn  of  the  psychic  faculty. 

The  manifold  speculations  about  the  mind,  by  which  was 
always  meant  the  intellect,  for  it  was  not  conceived  that  either 
the  will  or  the  soul  really  belonged  to  the  mind,  were  chiefly 
confined  to  the  department  which  is  now  called  epistemology, 
i.e.,  to  the  question  whether  there  is  any  real  external  world,  or 
whether  it  may  not  be  all  simply  a  subjective  train  of  mental 
operations.  Descartes  thought  he  was  at  least  sure  of  his  own 
existence  because  he  was  able  to  think,  and  Bishop  Berkeley, 
Hume,  and  many  other  learned  men  could  get  no  further  than 


14  Subjective  Factors. 

this.  Locke  did  a  noble  work  in  showing  that  ideas  come 
through  the  senses,  and  Kant  carried  this  truth  further  by 
predicating  the  dual  nature  of  the  mind,  i.e.,  its  division  into 
sense  {SiiuiIicJikcit)  and  intellect  ( l^crstaiid).  He  aptly  char- 
acterized these,  sometimes  as  the  two  trunks  of  human  intelli- 
gence, sometimes  as  the  two  fundamental  sources  of  the  mind, 
but,  as  will  be  seen  later,  he  made  no  further  use  of  the  first- 
named  of  them  than  to  show  that  through  it  alone  the  intellect 
receives  the  materials  for  thought  ;  or,  as  he  expresses  it  :  it  is 
through  sense  that  the  object  is  given  and  through  intellect 
that  it  is  thought. 

Reid  and  Stewart  of  the  Scottish  school  showed  still  more 
clearly  this  dependence  of  the  intellect  upon  the  senses  as  the 
primary  source  of  all  ideas,  and  this  relation  may  now  be  said 
to  be  accepted  by  all  philosophers.  But  beyond  this  stage  at 
which  the  intellect  is  shown  to  consist  of  variously  com- 
pounded and  elaborated  perceptions  derived  through  the  senses, 
scarcely  another  step  has  been  taken  in  the  direction  of  com- 
pleting the  explanation  of  this  relation,  or  of  connecting  it  with 
the  soul  on  the  one  hand  or  with  the  will  on  the  other.  When 
the  emotions  are  to  be  treated  they  are  treated  independently 
of  all  this  previously  established  psychological  truth,  and  when 
the  conative  powers  are  to  be  dealt  with  they  are  dealt  with  as 
a  distinct  faculty  without  antecedent  or  bond  of  adhesion  to  any 
other  branch  of  the  system  of  psychic  phenomena. 

That  a  natural  connection  exists  between  all  these  depart- 
ments of  mind  it  is  one  of  the  chief  purposes  of  these  pages  to 
show. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE    PSYCHOLOGIC    PROCESS. 

Mind  has  two  sides,  an  ol3verse  and  a  reverse.  The  one  begins  with 
sensation  and  ends  with  sentiment  ;  the  other  begins  with  perception  and 
ends  with  reason.  The  one  constitutes  the  feelings,  the  other  the  intellect. 
The  tendency  in  all  ages  has  been  to  ignore  the  former  of  these  great 
divisions  of  the  mind,  which  is  essentially  the  primary  one  ;  or,  if  recognizing 
it  at  all,  to  sublimate  it  into  an  intangible  something  called  the  will,  which 
no  two  philosophers  could  agree  in  defining,  and  no  one  succeed  in  compre- 
hending ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  glories  of  the  intellect  have  been  un- 
duly extolled,  and  the  impression  created  that  mind  consists  solely  of  intel- 
lect and  will. — Dynamic  Sociology,  II,  123. 

Hier  ist  eine  Stufenleiter  derselben.  Die  Gattung  ist  Vorstellung  tiber- 
haupt  (repraese7itatio).  Unter  ihr  steht  die  Vorstellung  mit  Bewusstsein 
{poxcptio).  Eine  Perception,  die  sich  lediglich  auf  das  Subject  als  die 
Modification  seines  Zustandes  bezieht,  ist  Empfindung  {sensaiio) ;  eine 
objective  Perception  ist  Erkenntniss  icognitio).  Diese  ist  entweder  An- 
schauung  oder  Begriff  {ijituitus  vel concepius).  Jene  bezieht  sich  unmittelbar 
auf  den  Gegenstand  und  ist  einzeln  ;  dieser  mittelbar  vermittelst  eines 
Merkmals,  was  mehreren  Dingen  gemein  sein  kann.  —  Kant  :  Kriiik  der 
reinen  Verminft,  p.  261. 

Taking  as  the  basis  of  the  knowledge  possessed  by  Man  of  any  object 
external  to  him  (and  therefore  of  the  External  World  generally), y?/-j-/,  a  sub- 
jective Sensation  called  forth  by  the  presence  of  that  object  ;  secondly,  the 
recognition  cf  the  externality  of  the  cause  of  that  sensation  ;  ?ind  thirdly, 
the  formation  of  a  notion  respecting  the  c|uality  of  the  object  which  called 
it  forth,  —  we  have  next  to  incjuire  into  the  mode  in  which  such  elementary 
Notions  or  Cognitions  (which  are  afterwards  to  be  combined  into  the  com- 
posite Idea  of  the  object)  are  generated.  —  W.  B.  Carpenter:  Mental 
Physiology,  p.  184. 

Every  sensation,  to  be  known  as  one,  must  be  perceived  ;  and  must  so  be 
in  one  respect  a  perception.  Every  perception  must  be  made  up  of  com- 
bined sensations  ;  and  must  so  be  in  one  respect  sensational  .  .  .  Sen- 
sations are  primary  undecomposable  states  of  consciousness  ;  while  per- 
ceptions are  secondary  decomposable  states,  consisting  of  changes  from  one 


1 6  Subjective  Factors. 

primary  state  to  another.  Hence,  as  continuance  of  the  primary  states  is 
inconsistent  with  the  occurrence  of  changes,  it  follows  that  consciousness  of 
the  changes  is  in  antagonism  with  consciousness  of  the  states  between  which 
they  occur.  So  that  perception  and  sensation  are,  as  it  were,  ever  tending 
to  exclude  each  other,  but  never  succeeding.  Indeed,  consciousness  con- 
tinues only  in  virtue  of  this  conflict.  —  Herbert  Spen'CER  :  Principles  of 
Psychology,  I,  p.  475. 

The  first  of  these  elements,  originally  an  excitement,  becomes  a  simple 
sensation  ;  then  a  compound  sensation  ;  then  a  cluster  of  partially  presenta- 
tive  and  partially  representative  sensations,  forming  an  incipient  emotion  ; 
then  a  cluster  of  exclusively  ideal  or  representative  sensations,  forming  an 
emotion  proper  ;  then  a  cluster  of  such  clusters,  forming  a  compound 
emotion  ;  and  eventually  becomes  a  still  more  involved  emotion  composed 
of  the  ideal  forms  of  such  compound  emotions.  The  other  element,  be- 
ginning with  that  immediate  passage  of  a  single  stimulus  into  a  single 
motion,  called  reflex  action,  presently  comes  to  be  a  set  of  associated  dis- 
charges of  stimuli  producing  associated  motions,  constituting  instinct. 
Step  by  step  arise  more  entangled  combinations  of  stimuli,  somewhat 
variable  in  their  modes  of  union,  leading  to  complex  motions  similarly 
variable  in  their  adjustments  ;  whence  occasional  hesitations  in  the  sensori- 
motor processes.  Presently  is  reached  a  stage  at  which  the  combined 
clusters  of  impressions,  not  all  present  together,  issue  in  actions  not  all 
simultaneous;  implying  representation  of  results,  or  thought.  —  Herbert 
Spencer  :  Data  of  Ethics,  I,  p.  105. 

When  the  end  of  the  finger  is  placed  against  any  material 
object  two  results  follow.  There  is  produced  a  sensation  de- 
pending upon  the  nature  of  the  object,  and  there  is  conveyed 
to  the  mind  a  notion  of  the  nature  of  the  object.  The  sensation 
and  the  notion  are  not  one  and  the  same  but  two  distinct 
things,  capable  of  being  contemplated  separately.  If  the  ob- 
ject, as  is  the  usual  case,  be  neither  hot  nor  cold  relatively  to 
the  temperature  of  the  body,  and  do  not  penetrate  the  tissues 
nor  derange  the  part  in  contact  with  it  by  any  caustic  property, 
the  sensation  will  be  what  may  be  called  iudiffcroit,  i.e.,  it 
will  be  neither  painful  nor  pleasurable.  Nevertheless,  if  the 
object  be  such  as  to  be  capable  of  producing  any  sensation  at 
all,  i.e.,  be  not  a  mere  gas,  incapable  of  affecting  the  part,  it 
will  be  distinct,   and  one  can    prolong  it   at  will   and  fix  the 


The  Psychologic  Process.  1 7 

attention  upon  it  while  partially  or  wholly  excluding  the  notion 
it  conveys  to  the  mind.  On  the  other  hand,  in  such  a  case 
one  may,  and  most  naturally  does,  quite  ignore  the  sensation, 
and  may  fix  the  attention  more  or  less  exclusively  upon  the 
notion  produced  by  the  object.  If  this  latter  course  is  pursued 
it  is  clear  that  the  notion  conveyed  is  due  to  the  nature  of  the 
object,  since  it  will  differ  with  different  objects.  In  other 
words  it  is  this  notion  which  affords  the  mind  a  knowledge  of 
the  nature  of  the  object.  The  process  by  which  this  notion  or 
knov.dedge  is  produced  is  csW^d  pcrccptioji. 

The  primary  psychologic  process,  therefore,  is  the  produc- 
tion of  a  sensation  and  nearly  or  quite  simultaneously  with  this 
the  production  of  a  perception. ^  As  the  sensation  resides 
wholly  in  the  organism  or  subject  experimenting,  it  may  appro- 
priately be  called  subjective ;  and  as  the  perception  relates 
exclusively  to  the  object  the  nature  of  which  it  reveals,  it  may 
with  equal  propriety  be  called  objective.  This  initial  step  in 
the  psychologic  process  furnishes,  therefore,  the  basis  or  pri- 
mary element  of  both  the  subjective  and  the  objective  branch 
of  mind.  The  following  out  of  the  subsequent  phenomena 
which  succcessively  flow  from  the  repetition,  multiplication, 
combination  and  coordination  of  sensations  constitutes  Sub- 
jective Psychology  ;  while  the  similar  following  out  of  the 
phenomena  which  flow  from  the  corresponding  repetition,  mul- 
tiplication, combination  and  coordination  of  perceptions  con- 
stitutes Objective  Psychology. 

The  finger-tip  has  been  selected  for  illustration  because  it  is 
known  that  this  part  of  the  human  organism  has  from  prolonged 
use  been  differentiated  physiologically  through  the  laws  of  de- 
velopment for  affording,  more  delicately  than  any  other  part, 
a  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  objects  with  which  it  is 
brought  in  contact.  Its  perceptive  power  has  been  specialized 
by  an  adjustment  of  the  nerve-tips  or  papillae  to  this  end.  Such 
specialization  is  common  in  the  animal  kingdom,  reaching  much 

1  More  properly  but  less  commonly  the  phenomenon  is  called  2i  percept  and  the 
act  a  perception. 


1 8  Subjective  Factors. 

greater  perfection,  for  example,  in  the  tips  of  the  vibrissa  of  the 
cat  and  of  the  antennas  in  insects.  But  the  process  might  be 
traced  by  experimenting  with  any  other  part  of  the  body  not 
aponeurotic  (e.g.,  hair  or  nails),  only  it  would  be  seen  that  here 
the  subjective  part  of  the  process  would  manifest  itself  rela- 
tively much  stronger  while  the  notion  gained  of  the  nature  of 
the  object  would  be  correspondingly  less  definite. 

The  sense  of  feeling  was  also  chosen  for  the  purpose  of 
illustrating  the  psychologic  process  because  it  displays  both 
parts  of  the  process  to  better  advantage  than  any  of  the  other 
four  senses.  This  is  because  all  the  other  senses  are  are  too 
much  specialized  either  in  one  direction  or  the  other  for  certain 
economic  purposes.  The  nerve  papillae  of  the  tongue  and  palate 
which  give  the  sense  of  taste  are  specialized  to  dissolve  nutri- 
tious substances  and  yield  pleasure  during  their  passage  to  the 
stomach  ;  also  to  reject  nauseous  ones  by  yielding  pain.  They 
furnish  no  notion  of  any  other  qualities,  and  give  no  further  idea 
of  an  insoluble  substance  than  would  be  obtained  by  placing  it 
upon  the  back  of  the  hand.  This  sense,  when  only  soluble 
substances  are  considered,  may  therefore  be  regarded  as  occupy- 
ing the  extreme  subjective  end  of  the  scale. 

The  sense  of  smell  also  occupies  a  position  near  what  may 
be  called  the  subjective  pole.  The  olfactory  nerve  is  specialized 
to  detect  odors,  chiefly  either  pleasant  or  unpleasant,  but  from 
its  location  is  withdrawn  from  contact  with  ordinary  substances. 
If  liquids,  or  solids  in  the  comminuted  form,  are  introduced 
into  the  antra,  unless  themselves  odorous,  they  usually  cause 
pain  more  or  less  distinctly  from  threatening  to  injure  the 
delicate  tissues  of  the  nerve.  Inert  gases  such  as  air  are  im- 
perceptible. What  constitutes  odorousness  has  long  been  a 
disputed  question,  and  the  ingenious  theory  has  lately  been 
proposed  that  only  volatile  and  chemically  unstable  substances 
are  odorous,^  i.e.,  that  only  gases  are  capable  of  affecting  the 

1  Prof.  F.  W.  Clarke  advanced  this  theory  in  a  still  unpublished  paper  read  before 
the  Philosophical  Society  of  Washington  on  Nov.  7,  1S85.  See  Bulletin  Phil.  Soc, 
Vol.  VIII,  p.  27. 


The  Psychologic  Process.  1 9 

olfactory  nerve  in  the  manner  to  produce  the  sensation  of  an 
odor. 

The  next  sense  in  the  order  of  increasing  objectivity  with 
correspondingly  decreasing  subjectivity  is  that  of  hearing,  but 
the  step  is  a  long  one,  and  it  is  obvious  that  the  sensation 
produced  by  sound,  unless  the  vibrations  are  so  violent  as 
to  produce  pain  or  manifest  disturbance  of  the  apparatus, 
is  practically  nil.  On  the  other  hand  a  very  definite  idea  of 
the  nature  of  the  object  emitting  the  sound  is  produced  ;  not, 
indeed,  of  its  form  or  texture,  but  of  its  sound-producing 
properties.  By  virtue  of  this  objective  capability  of  the  sense 
of  hearing  it  becomes  one  of  the  great  avenues  of  conveying 
knowledge  to  the  mind. 

Penally,  at  the  extreme  objective  pole  we  find  the  sense  of 
sight.  Unless  the  light  be  so  brilliant  as  mechanically  to  injure 
the  optic  nerve  it  is  impossible  to  detect  any  sensation  in  the 
act  of  seeing.  But  of  all  the  senses  this  is  the  one  that 
furnishes  the  most  complete  notion  of  the  object. 

With  regard  to  the  material  vehicle  of  the  five  senses  we  may 
say  that  the  gustatory  sense  requires  a  liquid,  the  olfactory 
sense  (should  Prof.  Clarke's  theory  be  confirmed)  a  gaseous, 
the  tactual  sense  a  solid,  the  auditory  sense  usually  a  gaseous 
(the  atmosphere  1),  and  the  visual  sense  an  ethereal  (the  uni- 
versal ether)  medium. 

The  order  in  passing  from  the  subjective  to  the  objective 
pole  is  that  just  given,  viz.,  i,  taste  ;  2,  smell  ;  3,  touch  ;  4, 
hearing  ;  5,  sight. 

1  Solids  and  liquids  are  also,  of  course,  conductors  of  sound  in  varying  degrees, 
but  it  is  the  air  that  directly  affects  the  organ  of  hearing. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

SUBJECTIVE    PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  phenomena  of  feeling  constitute  the  true  basis  of  all  that  part  of 
philosophy  which  at  all  involves  the  interest  of  man.  They  are,  in  short, 
the  foundation-stones  of  the  social  science.  \Vhat  function  is  to  biology, 
feeling  is  to  sociology.  —  Dynamic  Sociology,  II.  123. 

Sensation  is  the  consciousness  of  the  change  which  the  contact  of  the 
object  effects  in  the  state  of  the  molecules  at  the  point  of  contact.  This 
bears  no  direct  proportion  to  the  amount  of  disturbance  produced,  but 
•depends  far  more  upon  the  degree  of  soisiti-i'ciicss  of  the  part  affected. 
This  sensitiveness  is  clue  to  the  specialization  of  the  tissues  for  this  e.xpress 
purpose,  which  results  from  the  operation  of  natural  selection  or  adaptation. 
The  physiological  meaning  of  these  degrees  of  sensitiveness  in  different 
tissues  is,  that  the  nerve-fibers  are  so  arranged  at  points  where  it  is  advan- 
tageous to  the  organism  to  have  them  so,  that  slight  disturbances  at  their 
termini  convey  comparatively  powerful  discharges  to  the  interior  centers, 
and  the  greater  the  disproportion  between  the  amount  of  disturbance  and 
the  amount  of  the  discharge  the  more  sensitive  the  part  is  said  to  be. — 
Dynamic  Sociology,  I,  381-382. 

The  peculiarity  of  Feeling,  therefore,  is  that  there  is  nothing  but  what  is 
subjectively  subjective  ;  there  is  no  object  different  from  self,  —  no  objectifi- 
cation  of  any  mode  of  self.  —  Sir  William  Hamilton:  Metaphysics, 
II,  p.  432.  Lecture  42. 

External  Objects  impressed  upon  the  Senses  occasion,  first  in  the  Nerves, 
on  which  they  are  impressed,  and  then  in  the  Brain,  Vibrations  of  the 
small,  and  as  one  may  say,  infinitesimal,  medullary  Particles.  —  David 
Haktlev  :    Observatio)is  on  Man,  Prop.  W . 

These  vibrations  are  motions  backwards  and  forwards  of  the  small 
particles  :  of  the  same  kind  with  the  oscillations  of  pendulums,  and  the 
tremblings  of  the  particles  of  sounding  bodies.  They  must  be  conceived 
to  be  exceedingly  short  and  small,  so  as  not  to  have  the  least  efficacy  to 
disturb  or  move  the  whole  bodies  of  the  nerves  or  brain.  —  Daviu  Hart- 
ley :  Ibid.,  (Discussion  of  Prop.  \\). 


Subjective  Psychology.  21 

The  first  tendency  in  every  consciousness  is  pure  pain-pleasure,  complete 
subjectivity  whicli,  however,  in  higher  consciousness  is  so  quickly  lost 
through  practically  consentaneous  differentiation  that  all  traces  of  it  seem 
wholly  extinguished.  Pure  subjectivity  must  be  pronounced  the  most 
evanescent  of  all  characters  in  developed  minds  and  yet  the  most  constant. 
It  is  the  inevitable  precedent  in  every  sensation  and  in  every  perception. 
We  always  experience  pleasure  or  pain  before  the  pleasurable  or  painful.  — 
Hiram  M.  Stanley  :  PJiilosophical  Review,  July,  1892  (Vol.  I,  p.  439). 

Subjective  psychology  proper  deals  exclusively  with  sensa- 
tions and  their  various  combinations.  It  takes  no  account  of 
intellectual  processes.  The  simplest  sensations  are  those 
mentioned  at  the  beginning  of  the  last  chapter,  viz.,  those 
which  are  neither  painful  nor  pleasurable,  but  indifferent. 
These  are  more  abundant  than  might  be  at  first  supposed, 
and  their  importance  will  be  considered  in  the  next  chapter. 
Subjective  psychology  has  very  little  to  do  with  them.  Its 
chief  object  is  to  explain  the  nature  and  importance  of  the 
other  two  classes  of  sensations — painful  and  pleasurable  — 
which  may  be  grouped  together  in  contrast  with  indifferent 
ones  and  called  intensive.  Reasons  will  be  given  later  for 
regarding  intensive  sensations  as  primary  and  indifferent 
sensations  as  secondary. 

The  only  senses  that  afford  intensive  sensations  directly  are 
taste,  smell,  and  touch.  Objects  brought  into  contact  with 
the  nerves  of  any  of  these  senses  may  produce  directly  either 
painful  or  pleasurable  effects.  In  case  of  sounds  so  violent  as 
to  injure  the  ear,  or  light  so  brilliant  as  to  affect  the  eye 
unfavorably,  it  is  no  longer  hearing  or  sight  but  feeling  that  is 
involved.  Feeling  is  preeminently  the  pain-sense,^  few  objects 
being  capable  of  producing  pleasing  effects  by  direct  contact, 
though  some  such  there  are,  as  when  soft  fur  is  touched  or 

1  The  above  was  written  in  January,  1S92,  and  I  was  first  made  acquainted 
with  the  fact  that  Goldscheider  had  "positively  demonstrated  isolated  specific 
pain  nerves  "  on  reading  the  suggestive  articles  of  Dr.  Herbert  Nichols  in  the 
Philosophical  Review  for  July  and  September.  See  that  review,  Vol.  I,  pp.  406- 
407. 


2  2  Subjective  Factors. 

warm  water  is  felt  under  certain  conditions  of  the  system. 
Taste  and  smell,  on  the  contrary,  are  more  especially  pleasure- 
senses,  although  there  are  plenty  of  bitter,  sour,  and  nauseous 
objects  and  offensive  odors. 

The  pains  and  pleasures  yielded  by  sounds  and  colors  are 
not  direct  and  original  but  indirect  and  derivative.  It  is  true 
that  no  sensation  is  possible  that  is  not  conveyed  to  the  brain 
by  the  proper  nerves,  but  this  is  only  to  say  that  in  order  for 
a  sensation  to  exist  the  organism  must  be  conscious  of  it. 
The  pain  caused  by  burning  the  hand,  ho\ve\'er,  is  definitely 
located  in  the  injured  part.  The  pleasure  afforded  by  savory 
food  or  fragrant  flowers  is  felt  in  the  organs  of  taste  and  smell 
themselves.  But  the  pleasing  effect  of  melody  is  not  felt  in 
the  ear,  it  is  experienced,  as  is  commonly  said,  by  the  mind. 
]\Iuch  less  is  the  enjoyment  of  a  landscape  a  sensation  located 
in  the  eye.  It  is  a  diffused  state  of  the  psychic  organism,  and 
is  wrongly  called  intcttectimt  by  some.  Both  these  classes  of 
feelings  are  properly  called  cmotioital. 

This  leads  to  the  most  important  branch  of  subjective  psy- 
chology, viz.,  the  emotions.  Emotions  may  be  called  secondary 
sensations,  i.  e.,  sensations  that  are  not  produced  directly  by 
the  object  through  contact  of  its  appropriate  medium  with  the 
nerve,  but  are  reflected  from  the  brain  along  special  nerve 
fibers  to  certain  specialized  emotional  ganglia  within  the 
organism.  They  constitute  in  fact  a  distinct  sense,  the  oft- 
mentioned  sixth  sense,  if  any  one  prefers  so  to  designate  it. 
Not,  however,  the  so-called  "moral  sense"  of  certain  ethical 
writers,  by  which  we  are  said  to  be  able  to  distinguish  instinc- 
tively right  from  wrong  (which  is  not  a  sense  in  the  physiolog- 
ical acceptation  of  the  word),  but  a  true  physiological  sense, 
consisting,  like  the  other  five,  of  nerves  specialized  to  afford  a 
particular  class  of  sensations.  If,  however,  we  are  to  arrange 
the  senses  in  the  ascending  order  of  their  objectivity  and 
number  them  accordingly,  the  emotional  sense  would  stand 
first   instead  of  last,   since  it  is  as  exclusively  subjective  as  the 


Subjective  Psychology,  23, 

sense  of  sight  is  exclusively  objective.  An  emotion  yields  no 
perception.  It  was  pointed  out  that  the  senses  of  taste  and 
smell  are  chiefly  subjective,  that  their  principal  function  is  to 
cause  pleasurable  (or  painful)  sensations.  But  not  only  do 
these  senses  give  rise  to  a  great  number  of  such  sensations 
differing  as  the  nature  of  the  object  differs,  but  they  really 
acquaint  the  mind  with  as  many  different  qualities  residing  in 
the  objects.  That  is  to  say,  they  yield  perceptions  of  the 
gustatory  and  olfactory  qualities  of  objects  capable  of  affecting 
them,  but  of  no  other  qualities.  But  the  emotional  sense 
furnishes  the  mind  with  no  knowledge  whatever  of  the  object 
producing  the  emotion.  It  furnishes  sensation  only,  although 
the  nature  of  the  sensations  differ  widely  according  to  the 
objects,   and  are  infinitely  multiplied. 

It  appears  then  that  the  nervous  apparatus  of  a  developed 
organism  yields  two  great  classes  of  sensations  which  may  be 
roughly  classed  as  external  and  internal.  I  say  roughly,  be- 
cause this  distinction  is  not  absolute.  The  nerves  of  taste, 
smell,  hearing,  and  sight  are  internal,  but  not  so  much  so  that 
the  medium  through  which  they  are  reached  does  not  actually 
penetrate  to  them  from  without  and  act  directly  upon  them  as 
literally  as  a  blow  with  a  whip  acts  upon  the  external  nerves  of 
the  part  of  the  body  that  it  strikes.  In  emotions,  on  the  con- 
trary, there  is  no  medium  except  the  nerve  currents  themselves. 
The  specialized  emotional  ganglia  are  located  in  many  parts  of 
the  body  but  not  in  all  parts.  Large  numbers  of  them  are  con- 
nected with  the  cerebro-spinal  system,  but  the  great  emotional 
centers  are  located  in  the  sympathetic  system.  It  is  unneces- 
sary to  enter  here  into  a  detailed  account  of  the  intricate 
relations  subsisting  between  the  cerebro-spinal  and  sympathetic 
systems,  relations  which  are  not  as  yet  all  fully  understood,  and 
about  which  there  is  still  considerable  controversy.  The 
general  facts  have  long  been  established  and  these  are  sufficient 
for  the  present  purpose.  The  sympathetic  system  is  essentially 
internal  ;  its  operations  are  chiefly  or  wholly  unconscious  and 


24  Stibjectivc  Factors. 

cannot  be  controlled  at  will,  although  they  are  profoundly 
affected  by  mental  states,  however  these  may  have  been  brought 
about  ;  it  controls  the  involuntary  operations  of  the  internal 
organs,  such  as  circulation,  digestion,  assimilation,  and  glandu- 
lar secretion  ;  and,  finally,  it  is  the  seat  of  the  principal 
emotions.  Here  a  distinction  must  be  drawn  between  sensa- 
tion and  emotion.  In  a  joopular  sense  an  emotion  is  a  sensation, 
but  not  in  the  same  sense  in  which  the  term  is  applied  to  ex- 
ternal impressions.  It  was  remarked  above  that  feeling  is 
primarily  a  pain-sense.  All  the  nerves  of  feeling,  so  far  as 
known,  belong  to  the  cerebro-spinal  system,  and  all  organs 
which  are  exposed  to  injury  receive  fibers  from  that  system 
whether  they  receive  any  from  the  sympathetic  system  or  not. 
Those  organs,  such  as  the  liver,  kidneys,  ovaries,  etc.,  which 
are  supplied  with  fibers  from  the  sympathetic  only  are  so  far 
internal  as  not  to  require  the  protection  of  a  sensory  apparatus. 
The  emotional  centers,  therefore,  while  they  are  not  special- 
ized for  experiencing  the  sensation  of  pain  from  the  contact  of 
foreign  substances,  and  therefore  do  not  in  this  meaning  belong 
to  the  sense  of  feeling,  are  nevertheless  capable  of  affording  the 
most  intense  feelings  both  of  pain  and  pleasure.  We  may 
leave  unsettled  the  question  whether  the  emotions  are  confined 
exclusively  to  the  sympathetic  system  or  whether  the  cerebro- 
spinal system  may  contribute  somewhat  to  their  production,  the 
fact  remains  that  there  exists  a  diffused,  but  powerful  emotional 
sense  distinct  from  all  the  other  senses,  but  capable  of  yielding 
the  deepest  and  most  important  of  all  the  feelings. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OBJECTIVE    PSYCHOLOGY. 

Perception  is  the  quality  of  that  state  of  consciousness  of  the  tissue 
affected,  which  arises  from  the  character  of  the  object  ;  it  is  the  result  of 
differences  of  sensations  produced  by  differences  of  objects  ;  or,  still  more 
clearly,  of  different  sensations  caused  by  different  objects.  .  .  .  Perception 
of  the  lowest  form  consists  in  the  imiDression  thus  made  by  the  object  upon 
the  afferent  nerve  and  the  ganglion  to  which  it  immediately  leads.  ...  It 
is  simply  the  recognition  by  the  sensitive  nerve-matter  affected  that  it  has 
been  thus  affected,  the  manner  in  which  it  is  affected  denoting  the  prop- 
erties of  the  object.  This  is  the  root  of  the  idea  of  kiiowIcdij;c.  In  thus 
recognizing  the  properties  of  an  object,  the  nervous  system,  however 
simple,  in  so  far  knows  the  object.  The  term  coL^nition  is  preferable  to 
recognition,  since  it  does  not  presuppose  an  antecedent  acquaintance  with 
the  same  properties.  —  Dynamic  Sociology,  I,  382-3S3. 

Die  Vcrnunft  ist  weiblicher  Natur  :  sie  kann  nur  geben,  nachdem  sie 
empfangen  hat.  —  Schopenhauer  :  Welt  als  Wille  nnd  Vorstellung,  I,  59. 

The  white  medullary  Substance  of  the  Brain  is  also  the  immediate  In- 
strument, by  which  Ideas  are  presented  to  the  Mind  :  or,  in  other  words, 
whatever  Changes  are  made  in  this  Substance,  corresponding  Changes  are 
made  in  our  Ideas  ;  and  vice  versa.  —  David  Hartley  :  Observations  on 
Man,  Prop.  II. 

Objective  psychology  in  its  properly  limited  sense  deals  ex- 
clusively with  perceptions  and  their  elaboration  by  the  brain. 
The  contact  of  an  object  or  medium  with  the  nerve  of  sense  is 
called  an  impression  ;  the  effect  produced  upon  the  nerve  is  re- 
ferred to  the  brain  and  becomes  a  sensation,  which,  for  reasons 
that  will  hereafter  be  given,  appears  to  reside  at  the  im- 
mediate point  impressed.  If  not  so  strong  as  to  absorb  con- 
sciousness in  the  sensation  itself  a  perception  results,  affording 
a  notion  of  the  nature  of  the  object  which  caused  the  sensation. 
If  pain  is  produced  no   such  notion  is  gained.      If  a  pleasure- 


26  Siibjcctivc  Factors. 

nerve  is  affected  the  notion  is  limited  to  the  few  qualities 
residing  in  objects  capable  of  appealing  to  such  senses,  e.  g., 
sweet,  sour,  bitter,  fragrant,  etc.  The  notions  of  melody, 
harmony,  and  discord,  as  also  of  colors,  are  allied  to  these  last, 
but  differ  in  not  being  accompanied  by  proper  sensations. 
They  are  perceptions  of  the  lowest  class.  Uniformly,  the  less 
distinct  the  sensation  the  more  clear  the  perception.  The 
senses  of  hearing  and  sight,  therefore,  are  devoted  exclusively 
to  furnishing  perceptions. 

Perception,  like  sensation,  though  residing  in  the  brain  ap- 
pears to  be  located  at  the  receptive  end  of  the  nerves  of  sense. 
Perceptions  are  registered  in  the  brain  by  a  physiological  pro- 
cess not  wholly  understood,  but  about  which  much  is  known. 
This  registration  is  permanent,  i.e.,  it  remains  during  a  longer 
or  shorter  period  depending  upon  many  conditions.  Among 
these  conditions  are  the  importance  of  the  perception,  the 
quality  of  the  brain,  the  age  of  the  subject,  etc. 

The  structure  and  mechanism  of  the  brain  are  such  that  a 
plurality  of  registered  perceptions  gives  rise  to  a  process  of 
combination,  comparison,  and  coordination.  Every  individual 
from  birth  to  death  is  incessantly  receiving  impressions  through 
the  appropriate  senses  which  are  duly  recorded  and  constitute 
his  stock  of  raw  material  for  thought.  The  process  of 
elaborating  this  raw  material  is  distinguished  from  all  other 
psychic  operations  as  intellectiial.  The  cerebral  apparatus  by 
which  it  is  accomplished  is  the  organ  of  the  intellect. 

The  first  step  in  the  purely  intellectual  process  is  the  group- 
ing together  of  the  several  perceptions  furnished  by  any  object 
and  the  formation  therefrom  of  a  conception}  of  it.      This  con- 

1  Concept  would  be  the  proper  term  and  is  properly  so  used,  but  it  has  also 
acquired  a  much  larger  meaning,  as  datum,  a.xiom,  or  fundamental  idea.  Concep- 
tion in  psychology  should  be  confined  to  the  act  of  conceiving  by  the  mind.  Its 
use  in  this  sense  may  have  been  derived  from  the  physical  fact  of  conception 
which,  before  much  was  known  about  physiology  was  supposed  by  many  to  be 
itself  a  mental  process.  Weismann  (Essays,  Vol.  II.  London,  1892,  pp.  106-107) 
remarks  apropos  to  this  belief :   "  Some  writers  regard  inheritance  by  means  of 


Objective  Psychology.  27 

ception  is  then  used  as  a  psychological  unit  of  comparison  with 
other  conceptions.  Where  two-  such  conceptions  are  compared 
the  mind  declares  whether  they  are  similar  or  dissimilar,  and 
such  declaration  is  called  in  logic  a  jiidgnioit,  while  the 
formula  by  which  it  is  expressed  is  called  :i proposition.  If  such 
judgment  be  not  erroneous  it  constitutes  a  trittJi^  which  Mr. 
George  Henry  Lewes  has  acutely  defined  as  "the  recognition 
of  identity."  Judgments  thus  formed  in  great  numbers  in  the 
mind  relative  to  all  the  multitudinous  phenomena  of  experience 
become  in  turn  distinct  psychological  units  of  a  higher  order  to 
be  themselves  compared  and  co-ordinated. 

A  still  more  complex  process  consists  in  arranging  like  with 
like  to  form  a  group  and  then  selecting  from  that  group  those 
properties  which  all  have  in  common  and  no  others,  giving  rise 
to  an  idea  in  the  Platonic  sense  ;  and  then  proceeding  with  the 
classification  of  unlike  ideas.  But  the  mind  does  not  stop  here. 
It  goes  on  and  makes  groups  of  these  groups,  ever  widening 
the  circle,  the  larger  groups  having  less  and  less  properties  in 
common,  and  the  smaller  groups  more  and  more.  This  process 
is  termed  generalization  and  may  be  carried  up  until  all  things 
whatsoever  shall  be  embraced  in  the  ultimate  generalization. 
Before  the  biological  sciences  were  founded  philosophers  from 
Plato  down  labored  to  find  illustrations  of  this  process.  Now 
they  are  abundant  and  familiar  even  to  school  children,  and 
the  study  of  classification  in  plants  and  animals,  entirely  aside 
from  the  knowledge  of  nature  which  it  affords,  is  of  more  value 
as  a  lesson  in  logic  than  all  the  rules  and  formulas  of  that 
science  if  committed  to  memory.      One   may  struggle  for  four 

fertilization  as  a  purely  immaterial  occurrence:  thus  Harvey,  in  his  remarkable 
and  minutely  thought-out  theory  of  heredity,  imagined  conception  as  a  mental 
process,  the  folds  of  the  mucous  membrane  lining  the  uterus  corresponding  to  the 
convolutions  of  the  brain,  and  giving  rise  to  the  foetus  under  the  influence  of  the 
semen;  just  as  the  brain,  under  the  influence  of  e.\ternal  impressions,  gives  rise  to 
thoughts.  The  term  '  conception,'  when  figuratively  applied  to  mental  processes, 
—  a  term  which  has  been  obviously  derived  from  conception  on  the  part  of 
a  woman,  —  is  here  reversed,  and  used  to  explain  the  very  process  from  which 
it  is  itself  derived." 


28  Subjective  Factors. 

years  to  comprehend  the  Platonic  idea  without  succeeding-,  but 
the  moment  a  distinct  conception  is  gained  of  what  is  meant 
by  a  genus  or  an  order  in  natural  history  the  Platonic  idea  is 
mastered. 

Reason  is  more  especially  the  faculty  by  which  the  mind 
reaches  conclusions.  It  does  this  from  a  use  of  all  the  materials 
in  its  possession,  but  chiefly  by  the  aid  of  conceptions,  judg- 
ments, and  other  of  the  higher  psychological  units.  The  two 
leading  methods  are  deduction  and  induction,  both  of  which 
are  too  familiar  to  require  description.  Both  are  essentially 
classificatory,  the  former  valuable  in  verifying  hypotheses  or 
suspected  relationships  among  ideas,  the  latter  often  leading  to 
the  unexpected  discovery  of  new  truth. 

To  all  these  intellectual  operations  text-book  writers  append 
treatises  on  memory  and  imagination.  But  memory  is  the 
general  condition  to  the  whole  process  and  consists  in  the  fact 
that  not  only  perceptions  but  conceptions,  judgments,  and 
ideas  are  more  or  less  permanently  registered  and  may  be 
called  up  as  occasion  requires.  The  phenomena  of  the  associ- 
ation of  ideas  also  rests  upon  this  fact.  Imagination  cannot 
transcend  experience.  Its  materials  must  all  be  stored  up  for 
use.  It  can  only  form  new  or  strange  combinations  of  them, 
can  multiply  them  into  exaggerations  or  combine  them  in  un. 
natural  ways.  The  same  is  true  of  the  creative  faculty  in  art, 
usually  treated  as  a  form  of  the  imagination.  But  here  the 
process  consists  essentially  in  a  selection  of  tJie  best  from  all  the 
materials  at  hand.  Everything  in  the  real  world  is  imperfect 
but  there  exist  ideals,  and  the  true  artist  selects  from  these 
and  realizes  to  the  extent  of  his  power  his  idea  of  a  perfect 
combination. 

Objective  psychology,  as  already  remarked,  is  about  the  only 
de])artmcnt  of  the  mind  that  the  older  philosophers  deemed 
worthy  of  study,  and  the  process  above  sketched  constituted 
the  greater  part  of  the  field  covered  by  them.  But  there  is 
another  department,  hitherto  almost  wholly  ignored,  yet  the 


Objective  Psychology.  29 

one  which  is  historically  the  primary  intellectual  process,  and 
is  at  the  same  time  practically  the  most  important  of  all  in- 
tellectual processes.  To  distinguish  it  from  all  the  other  forms 
of  reasoning  I  propose  to  call  this  process  intiiitipji.  The 
power  of  carrying  on  this  kind  of  mental  activity  may  be  called 
the  intuitive  faculty.  The  probable  explanation  of  the  neglect 
of  this  faculty  by  writers  on  the  mind  is  its  identity  with  what 
we  call  sagacity  or  cunning,  which,  whether  displayed  by 
animals  or  men,  is  considered  to  be  a  low  element.  That  the 
principle  of  deception  lies  at  the  foundation  of  it  I  have 
formerly  shown,  and  shall  more  fully  establish  in  Chap.  XXIV, 
which  makes  it  of  the  greatest  importance  to  ethical  and 
social  science,  while  this  reputed  sin  is  many  times  atoned 
for  by  its  achievements  in  the  domain  of  non-sentient  things  in 
constituting  the  sole  condition  to  the  origin  and  progress  of 
material  civilization.  But  the  proper  treatment  of  this  impor- 
tant part  of  objective  psychology  cannot  be  undertaken  until 
the  nature  of  the  conative  powers,  so  constantly  associated 
with  it,  shall  have  been  set  forth,  and  it  will  be  best  to  post- 
pone the  whole  subject  until  the  second  part  of  the  work  is 
reached,  where  it  will  constitute  the  essential  basis  of  the 
entire  discussion. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   CONATIVE    FACULTY. 

The  simpler  truths  of  physics,  chemistry,  etc.,  have  been  found  to  present 
difficulties,  puzzles,  and  paradoxes,  at  every  step  in  their  investigation.  It 
is  therefore  not  surprising  tliat  the  far  more  subtile  phenomena  of  mind 
should  present  enigmas  and  paradoxes  even  more  remarkable,  and  thus 
baffle  the  common  intellect  and  that  of  the  philosopher  as  well.  That  the 
phantom  of  the  will  is  such  a  paradox  there  is  no  doubt.  Already  far  more 
deeply  cherished  beliefs  in  various  departments  have  been  remanded  by 
science  to  the  limbo  of  paradoxical  myths,  and  I  see  no  reason  for  clinging 
with  such  pertinacity  to  the  will  after  it  is  shown  to  be  only  a  will-o'- 
the  Tuisp.  —  DynaiJiic  Sociology,  I,  398. 

Affectus  coerceri  nee  tolli  potest,  nisi  per  affectum  contrarium  et  fortiorem 
affectu  coercendo.  —  Spixoza  :  Ethica,  Pars  IV,  Proposiiio  VII. 

Although  the  conative  faculty  properly  belongs  to  subjective 
psychology  it  would  have  been  inconvenient  to  treat  it  before 
the  general  principles  of  objective  psychology  were  set  forth. 
This  is  in  consequence  of  the  important  part  which  the  ideo- 
motor  apparatus  performs  in  producing  voluntary  action.  Of 
this  I  shall  presently  speak. 

We  have  seen  that  impressions  which  are  not  strong  enough 
to  produce  any  but  what  have  been  called  indifferent  sensa- 
tions are  conveyed  to  the  brain  in  the  form  of  perceptions  and 
constitute  the  raw  material  for  thought.  That  is  to  say,  they 
are  reflected  to  the  cortical  layers  and  other  specialized  fibers 
and  plexuses  devoted  to  the  process  of  ideation  as  described  in 
the  last  chapter.  But  impressions  which  are  strong  enough 
to  produce  what  were  called  intensive  sensations,  after  being 
carried  to  the  brain  along  the  ajfcrcnt  nerves  are  reflected  back 
along  a  different  set  of  nerves,  designated  as  efferent  nerves, 
to  the  muscles  connected  with  the  organ  impressed.  These 
nerves  possess  an  entirely  different  function,  namely,   that  of 


The  Con  a  live  Faciilly.  31 

causing  the  appropriate  muscles  to  contract  and  the  organ  to 
move.  Hence  they  are  called  motor  nerves,  and  the  entire 
nervous  system  has  this  motor  apparatus  everywhere  accom- 
panying the  sensor  apparatus.  The  great  distinguishing  char- 
acteristic of  an  animal  organism  is  its  ability  to  move  —  to 
move  itself  bodily  (except  in  the  few  cases  of  the  lower  forms 
that  are  fixed  to  a  support),  or  at  least  to  move  its  parts.  This 
movement  is  accomplished  entirely  by  means  of  the  motor 
nerves  communicating  with  the  appropriate  muscles. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  motor  apparatus  is  only  stimu- 
lated to  act  by  intensive  sensations,  that  is,  by  such  as  cause 
pleasure  or  pain,  be  this  ever  so  slight,  a  fact  which  is  of 
prime  importance  in  considering  the  conative  powers.  But 
the  reason  for  it  is  clear.  The "  movements  caused  by  such 
sensations  are  not  irregular  and  aimless  but  have  a  definite 
character  and  purpose.  They  always  take  place  in  the  direc- 
tion crtcwj'/'/r-';//  a  pain-producing  object  and  tozvanis  a  pleasure- 
producing  object.  The  simplest  animal  movement  known  is 
that  which  is  called  reflex  action,  by  which  the  afferent  nerve 
carries  the  impression  direct  to  the  brain  or  principal  gang- 
lionic center  and  the  motor  impulse  is  directly  reflected  back 
to  the  organ  impressed,  resulting  in  its  movement.  So  simple 
is  this  that  it  may  be  made  to  take  place  in  a  dead  frog's  leg, 
provided  the  nerves  are  still  intact. 

From  this  simple  origin  the  phenomena  may  be  folknved 
through  a  great  variety  and  complexity  of  forms  until  it 
becomes  impossible  to  analyze  them  and  distinguish  their 
several  elements.  The  sensori-motor  apparatus  permeates  the 
•organism  and  extends  to  all  the  organs  that  are  at  all  exposed. 
A  few  of  the  internal  organs,  as  previously  stated,  are  destitute 
of  sensori-motor  nerves  and  provided  only  with  sympathetic 
ones,  and  one  of  the  most  convincing  proofs  of  the  purpose  of 
this  arrangement  is  that  while  the  ovaries  belong  to  this  latter 
class  the  corresponding  but  exposed  testes  are  provided  with 
sensori-motor  nerves  from  the  cerebro-sj^inal  system. 


o- 


Subjcctivc  Factors. 


The  sympathetic  system  also  has  motor  attachments,  as  is 
evidenced  by  its  control  of  the  peristaltic  muscular  movements 
of  the  intestines,  the  valves  of  the  arteries,  the  systole  and 
diastole  of  the  heart  and  circulatory  vessels,  the  action  of 
secretory  glands,  etc.,  but  all  this  is  carried  on  unconsciously, 
or  more  properly  speaking,  is  presided  over  by  the  great 
subordinate  ganglionic  centers  and  is  not  referred  to  the  brain 
or  general  organ  of  consciousness.  If  therefore  it  appears  to 
form  an  exception  to  the  general  law  that  movement  can  only 
take  place  in  obedience  to  intensive  sensations,  this  is  based 
on  the  assumption  that  those  ganglionic  centers  are  incapable 
of  experiencing  sensations,  an  assumption  by  no  means  war- 
ranted by  physiology.  The  nervous  system  must  be  regarded 
as  compound,  i.  e.,  as  composed  of  many  individuals,  the 
subordinate  ganglionic  centers,  each  endowed  with  a  conscious- 
ness of  its  own,  and  all  integrated  into  a  general  system  having 
the  brain  as  the  supreme  center  of  consciousness.  This 
supreme  consciousness  is  the  ego  of  the  philosophers,  and 
nothing  that  is  not  referred  to  it  is  perceived  by  the  integrated 
organism  or  ego.  Physiological  economy  requires  that  most  of 
the  internal  vital  processes  shall  be  performed  without  expense 
to  the  general  consciousness  ;  the  sensations  calling  forth  these 
ceaseless  actions  are  extremely  slight,  and  only  when  derange- 
ments occur  too  great  to  be  repaired  by  the  lower  centers  are 
these  sensations  referred  to  the  higher  one  and  brought  within 
the  range  of  consciousness  proper.  But  the  proposition  must 
be  rigidly  adhered  to  that  there  can  be  no  motion  without 
sensation,  and  these  unconscious  sensations,  if  the  expression 
were  permissible,  must  be  regarded  as  the  sensations  of 
individual  beings  distinct  from  the  ego,  which  is  no  more 
aware  of  them  than  it  is  of  those  of  any  other  organism  not 
itself. 

It  is  to  be  remarked,  however,  that  there  seems  to  exist  a 
faint  but  incessant  current  connecting  these  lower  centers  with 
the  supreme  center  and  producing  a  constant   recognition  of 


The  Couativc  Faculty.  33 

the  activity  of  all  the  vital  functions  ;  for  it  can  be  nothing 
else  than  this  that  constitutes  the  cnjoynicjit  of  health.  It  is 
the  pleasure  of  normal  activity  throughout  all  the  organs  of 
the  body,  steadily  reported  by  the  subordinate  centers  to  the 
supreme  center.  Conversely  in  low  states  of  health  the  pain 
of  imperfect  performance  of  function  is  similarly  reported, 
producing  all  the  grades  of  pathologic  states  to  complete 
prostration  and  death. 

Thus  far  we  have  considered  only  those  actions  which  result 
from  the  sensori-motor  apparatus.  But  in  highly  developed 
organisms  there  is  another  apparatus,  more  complicated  in  its 
nature,  called  the  idco-nioior  apparatus.  This  exists  in  all 
organisms  in  which  there  is  a  true  brain  having  registered  upon 
it  any  of  the  impressions  described  in  the  last  chapter — -percep- 
tions, conceptions,  judgments,  ideas,  generalizations,  thoughts. 
The  process  of  ideation  is  carried  on  in  the  cortical  layers  in 
communication  with  each  other  by  means  of  longitudinal  and 
transverse  fibers,  with  t\\Q  fornix  and  corpus  callosuui,  and  with 
the  sensorium  at  the  thalanii  optici  2CwA  corpora  striata.  These 
organs  are  provided  with  efferent  nerves  connecting  them  with 
the  muscular  system  along  which  there  occurs  a  motor  dis- 
charge producing  muscular  activities  which  are  the  legitimate 
ends  for  which  ideas  are  formed.  The  resultant  actions  are 
those  which  are  commonly  understood  as  rational  ■SiQX.'xow?,.  All 
others  are  the  simple  animal  impulses  with  which  the  reason 
has  nothing  to  do.  Such  actions  come  as  clearly  within  the 
generic  definition  of  being  the  result  of  intensive  senationsand 
tending  away  from  pain-producing  and  towards  pleasure-pro- 
ducing causes,  as  do  the  sensori-motor  actions  or  movements. 
They  differ  only  in  their  intellectual  origin  and  consequent 
higher  character.  Naturally  they  are  less  vivid  and  less  strong, 
but  they  are  also  more  persistent  and  enduring.  They  result 
from  what  is  called  conviction,  and  where  judgments  and  con- 
clusions are  objectively  true  they  are  successful  in  their  results. 
But  if  such  judgments  and  conclusions  involve  error  they  must 


34  Subjective  Factors. 

in  so  far  fail,  and  history  and  experience  have  proved  that  so 
complicated  is  the  process  of  ideation  that  error  is  nearly  or 
quite  as  common  as  truth,  so  that  ideo-motor  actions  of  the 
more  important  kinds  are  often  even  less  reliable  than  mere 
animal  impulses.  This  is  chiefly  due  to  insufficient  data  sup- 
plied to  the  mind,  and  constitutes  the  great  argument  for  the 
inculcation  of  the  maximum  amount  of  the  most  important 
knowledge  which  alone  can  render  ideas  trustworthy  and  ideo- 
motor  actions  safe. 

It  will  be  observed  that  in  treating  the  conative  faculty  I 
have  not  made  use  of  the  term  will.  This  is  because  this  term, 
like  many  others  in  our  language,  has  only  a  popular  and  not  a 
technical  or  scientific  meaning.  Psychology  is  the  physics  of 
the  mind,  and  its  phenomena  are  as  uniform  and  its  laws  as 
exact  as  are  those  of  the  physics  of  the  inorganic  world.  If 
this  were  not  so  it  would  not  be  a  science,  and  there  would  be 
no  use  in  attempting  to  treat  it  at  all.  The  physical  law  of 
mind  is  that  motor  impulses  follow  sense  impressions  as  effect 
follows  cause.  As  in  mechanical  physics,  so  in  mental  physics, 
the  effect  is  proportioned  to  the  cause  and  acts  in  the  direction 
of  the  cause.  In  the  microcosm  as  in  the  macrocosm  there  are 
multiplied  causes  always  operating,  and  these,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  are  constantly  influencing  one  another  in  every  con- 
ceivable way,  sometimes  working  together  to  strengthen  the 
effects,  more  commonly  conflicting  either  directly  or  obliquely 
and  variously  modifying  them.  In  mind  as  in  matter  the  actual 
effect  is  always  the  exact  resultant  of  these  causes,  and  if  equal 
and  opposite,  equilibrium  is  the  consequence,  while  if  oblique, 
or  varied  in  quantity  and  direction,  some  form  of  constrained 
motion  results.  The  actual  movement  observed  is  merely  an 
index  to  the  causes  producing  it,  and  notifies  the  observer  as  to 
what  were  the  prevailing  impulses. 

What  is  popularly  termed  the  will  is  merely  the  expression 
of  the  psychological  fact  that  this,  that,  or  the  other  impulse 
actually  did  prevail  because  stronger   than   all   others.     If  we 


The  Coualivc  Faculty.  35 

seek  for  any  other  rational  basis  for  the  will  we  never  find  it. 
To  suppose  with  some  that  the  rational  motives  constitute  the 
will  and  may  be  made  to  dominate  the  physical  impulses  is  un- 
sound, since  not  only  do  they  often  fail  to  do  so  in  the  best 
minds,  but,  as  above  remarked,  if  they  did,  the  result  would 
often  be  less  safe  than  it  is  in  the  actual  case.  To  the  claim 
that  the  will  consists  in  causing  good  motives  to  prevail  over 
bad  ones  the  answer  is  that  from  the  nature  of  the  mental 
mechanism  this  must  always  be  the  case,  since  the  only  move- 
ments possible  are  those  which  seek  the  good  or  shun  the  bad. 
This  of  course  is  from  the  standpoint  of  the  organism,  i.e., 
egoistic  ;  but  if  it  be  maintained  that  by  the  good  is  only 
meant  the  altruistic,  then  this  altruistic  motive  must  also  be  the 
prevailing  egoistic  one,  otherwise  we  have  an  effect  without  a 
cause,  and  psychology  ceases  to  be  a  science. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

ORIGIN   AND    FUNCTION    OF    PLEASURE   AND    PAIN. 

The  normal  operations  of  the  organism  must  be  maintained;  life  must  be 
presirved;  the  species  must  be  perpetuated.  Natural  selection  has  therefore 
made  tliose  acts  which  secure  these  ends  pleasurable,  and  those  that  threaten 
to  defeat  them  painful.  Any  species  in  which  these  sensations  are  not 
.sufficiently  lively  to  secure  the  performance  of  the  acts  necessary  to  main- 
tain and  perpetuate  its  life,  and  to  defend  it  from  external  dangers,  must 
rapidly  become  extinct,  and  only  those  species  have  survived  in  which  the 
sensations  were  sufficiently  developed  for  these  purposes. — Dy>ia//iic  Soci- 
ology, I,  388-389. 

The  objects  which  nature  must  be  regarded  as  aiming  to  accomplish  by 
the  introduction  of  pleasure  and  pain  are  the  preservation,  perjaetuation,  and 
improvement  of  sentient  organisms.  Pleasure  and  pain  are  merely  the  means 
to  these  several  ends,  all  of  which  are  more  or  less  remote  in  appearance 
from  the  means  employed.  .  .  .  There  is  no  necessary  connection  between 
a  given  pleasurable  or  painful  sensation,  and  the  result  it  accomplishes  in 
preserving,  perpetuating,  or  perfecting  the  organism  experiencing  it.  This 
result  is  brought  about  through  a  kind  of  pre-establislied  harmony,  not  indeed 
of  a  supernatural  kind,  but  consisting,  on  the  contrary,  of  a  purely  mechan- 
ical adaptation  of  the  means  to  the  end,  which  are  connected  by  the  highest 
causal  necessity,  yet  in  such  a  manner  that  the  creature  obeying  the  mandate 
of  the  former  does  so  without  the  least  necessary  conception  or  even  knowl- 
edge of  the  latter.  —  Dynamic  Sociology,  II,  1 20-1  21. 

Pains  are  the  correlatives  of  actions  injurious  to  the  organism,  while  pleas- 
ures are  the  correlatives  of  actions  conducive  to  its  welfare.  ...  It  is  an 
inevitable  deduction  from  the  hypothesis  of  Evolution,  that  races  of  sentient 
creatures  could  have  come  into  existence  under  no  other  conditions. — 
Herisert  Spencer  :  Pj'inciples  of  Psychology,  I,  p.  279.  Those  races 
of  beings  only  can  have  survived  in  which,  on  the  average,  agreeable  or 
desired  feelings  went  along  with  activities  conducive  to  the  maintenance 
of  life,  while  disagreeable  and  habitually-avoided  feelings  went  along  with 
activities  directly  or  indirectly  destructive  of  life;  and  there  must  ever  have 
been,  other  things  equal,  the  most  numerous  and  long-continued  survivals 
among  races  in  which  these  adjustments  of  feelings  to  actions  were  the  . 
best,  tending  ever  to  bring  about  perfect  adjustment.  —  Herisert  .Spexcer: 
Ibid.,  I,  p.  280. 


Origin  and  Function  of  Pleasure  and  Pain.      T^y 

Je  dois  cependant  signaler  ici  une  heureuse  remarque  de  M.  de  Blain- 
ville  sur  le  sit^ge  de  rimpression :  outre  raffection  directe  de  Torgane  prin- 
cipal de  la  satisfaction  du  besoin  considere,  il  y  a  loujours  une  affection 
sympathique  a  rorifice  du  canal  qui  doit  introduire  I'agent  destind  h.  cette 
satisfaction,  soit  qu'il  s'agisse  de  Tincrdtion  d'aliments  solides,  liquides,  ou 
gazeux:  il  en  est  de  meme,  en  sens  inverse,  pour  les  divers  besoins  d"ex- 
cr^tion,  toujours  ressentis  sympathiquement  k  I'extremitd  du  canal  excrdteur. 
—  AuGUSTE  Comte:  PJiilosophie  Positive,  III,  517. 

Mind,  like  all  other  vital  function,  must  originate  in  some  verj'  simple  and 
elementary  form  as  demanded  at  some  critical  moment  for  the  preservation 
of  the  organism.  It  is  tolerably  obvious  that  this  could  not  be  any  objective 
consciousness,  any  cognitive  act,  like  pure  sensation,  for  this  has  no  immediate 
value  for  life.  It  was  not  as  awareness  of  object  or  in  any  discriminating 
activity  that  mind  originated,  for  mere  apprehension  would  not  serve  the 
being  more  than  the  property  of  reflection  the  mirror.  The  demand  of  the 
organism  is  for  that  which  will  accomplish  immediate  movement  to  the 
place  of  safety.  —  Hiram  M.  Stanley:  Philosophical  Review,  July,  1892 
(vol.  I,  p.  433). 

Wenn  wir  den  Willen  da,  wo  ihn  Niemand  leugnet,  also  in  den  erkennen- 
den  Wesen,  betrachten,  so  finden  wir  iiberall,  als  seine  Grundbestrebung, 
die  Selbsterhaltung  eines  jeden  Wesens:  ojnnis  natura  viilt  esse  conser- 
vatrix  sui.  Alle  Aeusserungen  dieser  Grundbestrebung  aber  lassen  sich 
stets  zuriickfiihren  auf  ein  Suchen,  oder  Verfolgen,  und  ein  Meiden,  oder 
Fliehen,  je  nach  dem  Anlass.  —  Schopenhauer:   Welt  als  IVille.  II,  338. 

In  the  natural  world  everything  has  a  meaning.  The  mission 
of  science  is  to  ascertain  that  meaning.  Without  science  and 
before  science  all  is  mystery.  The  motto  of  science  is  ;///  ad- 
mirari.  Among  the  mysteries  about  which  philosophers  have 
from  time  immemorial  and  with  great  ingenuity  and  enormous 
labor  busied  themselves,  but  for  which  the  new  science  of 
biology  has  found  an  explanation  wholly  different  from  any 
proposed,  much  more  simple,  perfectly  rational,  and  in  harmony 
with  all  the  facts,  is  that  of  the  origin  of  pain,  or  in  more 
dignified  but  less  accurate  phrase,  the  origin  of  evil.  At  the 
same  time  that  it  explained  pain,  however,  it  also  explained 
pleasure,  which,  though  more  complicated  and  remarkable,  had, 
nevertheless,  never  been  regarded  as  a  mystery,  but  as  some- 


38  Subjective  Factors. 

thing  that  ought  to  exist  in  the  nature  of  things.  The  fact  is 
that  neither  pain  nor  pleasure  exists  essentially  or  in  the  nature 
of  things.  Neither  is  necessary,  and  the  universe  is  easily 
conceived  as  destitute  of  both.  The  only  sense  in  which  they 
can  be  regarded  as  necessary  is  that  in  which  whatever  is,  is 
necessary.      In  any  other  sense  they  are  accidental. 

To  illustrate  what  I  mean  by  saying  that  pleasure  and  pain 
are  not  inherently  necessary,  the  recent  announcement,  one 
might  almost  say  demonstration,  of  Prof.  August  Weismann, 
that  death  is  not  necessary  is  precisely  in  point.  He  has 
shown  that  the  duration  of  life  in  different  kinds  of  animals 
is  not  fixed  in  any  such  way  as  is  popularly  supposed,  but  has 
been  brought  about  in  each  case  by  the  cooperation  of  certain 
factors,  especially  the  rate  at  which  the  species  can  multiply 
and  the  danger  to  life  to  which  it  is  subjected  in  its  normal 
habitat.  These  two  causes  working  together  determine  the 
rate  of  reproduction,  and  the  duration  of  life  is  adjusted  to  this 
so  as  to  secure  the  requisite  number  of  offspring  per  pair  to 
insure  the  certain  continuance  of  the  species.  But  for  these 
agencies  the  life  of  man,  for  example,  might  have  been  twice 
or  ten  times  as  long  as  it  is,  or  might  have  been  cut  down  to  a 
score  of  years  or  less.  Indeed  there  would  be  no  necessary 
limit,  and  a  gnat  might  live  a  century.  Not  only  so,  but  from 
this  truth  as  a  basis  Weismann  works  out  with  wonderful  skill 
his  doctrine  of  the  continuity  of  the  germ-plasm,  and  actually 
maintains  that  the  least  of  all  living  things,  the  very  germs 
of  life,  are  in  very  truth  "immortal,"  and  that  in  the  latest 
product  of  organic  nature  there  exist  elements  that  have 
never  ceased  to  live  since  life  was  introduced  into  the 
world  ! 

It  is  in  exactly  this  sense  that  pleasure  and  pain  are  not 
necessary,  but  are  products  of  certain  conditioning  phenomena 
belonging  to  the  infinite  chain  of  cause  and  effect  which 
constitutes  the  actual  universe.  As  a  general  proposition 
embodying  this  truth  it  may  be   stated  that  pleasure  and  pain 


Origin  and  Function  of  Pleasure  and  Pain.      39 

arc  the  conditions  to  tlic  existence  of  plastic  organisms.  Organ- 
isms that  arc  not  plastic,  such  as  most  plants,  have  their 
existence  secured  by  other  conditions  —  the  solid  stem  or 
trunk,  deeply  imbedded  and  protected  roots,  multiplied  appen- 
dicular organs,  etc.  But  plastic  organisms,  such  as  most 
animals,  require  different  conditions  of  existence,  and  the  one 
with  which  we  find  them  provided  is  a  sensitive  organization,. 
—  that  is,  they  are  sentient. 

Except  by  a  degree  of  refinement  greater  than  is  necessary 
to  our  present  purpose  the  origin  of  life  is  a  different  problem 
from  the  origin  of  mind,  and  as  a  fact  in  cosmic  history  probably 
antedated  it  by  eons  of  time.  Mind  dates  from  the  dawn  of 
the  sentient  property.  This  property  belongs  to  plastic  motile 
beings,  and  as  above  stated,  is  the  condition  to  the  development 
of  such  beings.  However  faint  it  may  be  conceived  to  be  in 
the  most  lowly  of  them  they  must  all  be  assumed  to  be  capable 
of  feeling.  And  for  the  purpose  for  which  feeling  was  created 
it  must  be  supposed  to  consist  of  pleasure  and  pain.  Indifferent 
feeling,  such  as  was  described  as  the  basis  of  objective  psy- 
chology, could  have  been  of  no  possible  use  in  insuring  the  life 
of  inchoate  plastic  organisms.  Whether  we  conceive  them  as 
possessing  incipient  nervous  systems  or  merely  channels  in 
apparently  unorganized  protoplasmic  masses,  the  sensations 
which  led  them  to  obtain  nourishment  and  escape  danger  must 
have  belonged  to  the  intensive  class.  In  the  higher  metazoans 
and  all  the  developed  beings  that  people  the  earth  this  property 
is  distinct  and  manifest,  and  in  the  highest,  where  alone  we  are 
in  the  habit  of  observing  it,  it  does  not  differ  in  any  appreciable 
respect  from  what  we  experience  in  ourselves. 

We  have  seen  that  the  cerebro-spinal  system  of  the  higher 
animals  and  man  supplies  sensori-motor  nerves  to  all  exposed 
organs,  and  we  know  that  those  not  thus  provided  are  incapable 
of  feeling.  The  proof  is  adequate  that  it  is  the  purj)ose  of 
these  nerves  to  warn  the  system  of  danger  to  such  organs.  It 
is  a  legitimate   inference  from   abundant   induction   that   the 


40  Subjective  Factors. 

purpose  and  function  of  pain  is  protection  from  injury.  From 
the  bi()loi;ical  standpoint  it  has  no  other  object,  and  but  for  the 
necessity  of  such  protection  the  whole  animal  world  might  far 
better  have  been  incapable  of  pain.  Nor  is  there  any  doubt 
that  in  the  absence  of  this  necessity  such  a  quality  as  sensitive- 
ness to  pain  would  not  and  could  not  have  been  devel()])ed. 
Remove  this  quality  and  sentient  life  would  quickly  disapj^ear. 
The  hostile  environment  would  close  in  upon  it  and  ruthlessly 
crush  it.  But  pain  in  and  of  itself  is  evil  —  the  only  evil. 
Yet  viewed  in  the  dry  light  of  science  it  is  good  if  there  is  any 
good,  for  it  is  the  sole  guaranty  of  life  itself.  This  then  is  the 
origin  of  evil  and  forever  closes  the  great  debate,  while  at  the 
same  time  it  furnishes  the  ultimate  answer  to  pessimism,  asceti- 
cism, orientalism,  and  all  the  'isms  that  bewail  the  sufferings  of 
the  world. 

If  we  look  at  the  other  side  of  the  case  we  find  a  parallel 
series  of  facts.  Plastic  organisms  exist  by  virtue  of  what  physi- 
ologists call  victabolisvi.  Their  substance  must  be  constantly 
renewed  by  assimilation  of  the  materials  of  which  they  are 
composed.  Not  to  speak  of  growth,  they  are  perpetually  con- 
suming it  by  the  vital  processes  of  existence.  This  consump- 
tion of  tissue  or  normal  waste  of  organic  substance  must  be 
incessantly  supplied  from  without.  It  could  never  be  done 
without  an  adequate  stimulus  or  motive  for  doing  it.  The  re- 
plenishing of  wasted  tissues  is  nutrition,  and  to  insure  nutrition 
some  inducement  must  be  provided  to  perform  the  acts  that  will 
accomplish  it.  No  other  motive  can  be  conceived  than  that  of 
agreeable  sensation.  To  this  end  every  organism  is  provided 
with  a  nervous  apparatus  adapted  to  render  the  nutritive  act 
pleasurable.  In  the  lower  forms  it  is  some  degree  of  agreeable- 
ness  in  the  contact  of  the  absorbent  tissues  with  the  nutritive 
substance.  In  the  higher  it  becomes  taste,  to  which  the  sense 
of  smell  is  directly  ancillary.  Nor  is  this  sufficient.  To  it 
is  added  the  pain  or  "pangs"  of  hunger  only  a]3peasable  by 
renewal  of  the  supply.      And  if  the  term  nutrition  is  taken  in 


Origin  and  Fund  ion  of  Pleasure  and  Pain.      41 

its  broad  sense  of  supplying  all  the  elements  that  make  up  the 
organic  body,  since  the  greater  part  of  all  organisms  consists 
of  water,  thirst  must  be  added  with  its  intolerable  effects  driving 
the  creature  to  the  source  from  which  it  may  be  slaked.  These 
however  may  be  transferred  to  the  side  of  pleasurable  sensations 
by  considering  the  intense  satisfaction  that  attends  these  acts 
of  nutrition. 

Finally,  in  most  of  the  higher  organisms  in  which  this 
supreme  end  is  not  otherwise  attained,  the  procreative  pleasure 
has  been  added  to  prevent  such  races  of  beings  from  perishing 
for  lack  of  renewal.^  The  fact  that  this  is  absent  from  so 
many  living  creatures  makes  it  easy  to  conceive  of  its  being 
absent  from  all,  and  furnishes  an  excellent  example  in  illustra- 
tion of  the  accidental  character  of  sentiency  in  general,  and 
of  what  is  meant  by  saying  that  pleasure  and  pain  are  not 
necessary,  but  are  simply  conditions  to  the  existence  of  beings 
organized  as  plastic  organisms  are. 

We  thus  see  that  pleasure  and  pain  have  their  origin  not  in 
the  nature  of  things  but  in  the  nature  of  plastic  organisms, 
without  which  the  latter  could  not  have  existed,  and  that  their 
sole  function  is  to  conserve  life,  either  by  insuring  escape  from 
the  dangers  of  a  necessarily  hostile  environment,  or  by  consti- 
tuting the  motive  to  nutrition  and  reproduction.  From  this 
fundamental  truth  the  corollary  flows  that  the  so-called  evil 
of  the  world  is  a  mere  incident  of  the  complicated  conditions 
under  which  life  exists.  To  what  extent  it  is  necessary  and 
to  what  extent  it  is  avoidable  are  questions  that  belong  to  the 
second  part  of  this  work. 

Several  prevalent  errors  are  also  capable  of  removal  by  this 
view  of  the  subject.  It  is  commonly  supposed  that  pleasure 
and    pain    are   opposites.     This   is   seen   not   to    be   the   case. 

1  According  to  Weismann  it  is  not  renewal  or  reproduction  that  nature  aims  at 
in  developing  the  sexual  instinct,  but  variation  through  the  union  of  different 
hereditary  tendencies.  It  amounts  to  nearly  the  same  thing,  however,  since 
without  such  variation  organic  life  would  have  been  very  low  and  simple  even 
if  it  could  have  been  maintained  through  purely  asexual  reproduction. 


42  Subjective  Factors. 

They  are  practically  independent  of  each  other.  There  is  no 
opposite  to  pleasure  except  it  be  the  absence  of  pleasure,  and 
there  is  no  opposite  to  pain  except  it  be  relief  from  pain. 
They  are  physiological  states  arising  from  the  condition  of  the 
appropriate  nerves.  These  nerves  are  for  the  most  part 
specialized  ^  for  producing  either  the  one  or  the  other,  and 
the  parts  that  yield  pain-sensations  are  incapable  of  yielding 
pleasure-sensations,  as  instance  the  senses  of  feeling  and  of 
taste  and  smell.  Feeling,  as  has  been  remarked,  is  essentially 
a  pain-sense,  and  all  the  cerebro-spinal  plexuses  attending 
exposed  parts  of  the  body  are  susceptible  to  pains  only.  And 
although  flavors  or  odors  may  be  agreeable  or  disagreeable  this 
is  the  only  sense  in  which  they  may  be  called  opposite.  The 
same  is  probably  true  of  the  emotional  sense,  but  so  compli- 
cated and  involved  are  these  internal  phenomena  that  it  is 
unprofitable  to  speculate  upon  them. 

A  kindred  error  is  that  pleasure  is  the  positive  and  pain  the 
negative  element.  Both  are  positive  and  very  unlike.  There 
is  nothing  more  positive  than  pain,  although  of  the  two,  as 
will  be  seen,  it  is  the  one  whose  absence  or  elimination  can  be 
most  easily  conceived.  Neither  is  it  to  quite  the  same  extent 
the  normal  condition,  and  those  philosophies  which  are  based 
upon  the  postulate  of  necessary  pain,  or  of  the  essential  pre- 
dominance of  pain,  are  the  products  of  an  unhaj)py  social  state 
rather  than  of  a  clear  grasp  of  natural  truth.  But  this  much 
is  clear,  that,  to  use  the  current  teleological  forms  of  speech. 
Nature  has  no  concern  whatever  for  the  degree  of  pleasure  or 
of  pain,  but  only  for  the  preservation  and  perpetuation  of  the 
beings  she  has  evolved. 

While,  as  above  stated,  there  is  a  sense  in  which  pain  may 
be  said  to  be  a  good,  the  scientific  view  here  presented  is 
nevertheless  wholly  opposed  to  that  other  philosophy  which 
would  seek  to  make  it  a  desirable  end  of  life.     Created  for  the 

^  See  foot-note  to  page  45.     The  Ijroader  application  here  made  of  this  principle 
will,  I  believe,  be  borne  out  by  further  research. 


Origin  and  Function  of  Pleastu^e  and  Pain.      43 

purpose  of  warning  the  sentient  being  against  dangers  to  life, 
unless  it  heeds  that  warning  its  function  fails  and  it  were 
better  it  had  not  been  created.  The  principle  taught  by  Bain 
and  Spencer,  and  long  before  by  Spinoza,^  that  pleasure  leads 
to  life  and  pain  to  death,  that  the  pleasurable  is  the  good  and 
the  painful  is  the  bad,  and  that  the  duty  of  life  is  to  pursue  the 
former  and  avoid  the  latter,  is  thus  seen  to  rest  upon  a  funda- 
mental truth  of  organic  development  as  well  as  to  reflect  the 
simplest  dictates  of  common  sense  ;  and  the  opposite  doctrine 
is  one  of  those  deductions  of  the  rational  faculty  which  so 
frequently  lead  the  world  astray  when  not  proceeding  from  a 
sound  basis  of  acquired  knowledge.  As  remarked  in  Chap. 
V,  there  is  nothing  more  untrustworthy  than  the  legitimate 
deliverances  of  the  ignorant  or  error-laden  intellect.  But  as 
showing  that  even  those  who  would  court  pain  and  "mortify 
the  flesh  "  themselves  recognize  the  higher  claims  of  common 
sense  it  is  noteworthy  that  their  philosophy  is  the  outcome  of 
a  religion  which  teaches  a  future  state  of  infinite  misery  or 
unlimited  bliss,  and  that  it  is  the  belief  that  present  pain  will 
insure  future  pleasure  in  an  increased  degree  which  underlies 
their  teachings,  so  that  when  this  is  remembered  it  is  seen  to 
be  after  all  the  maximum  pleasure  that  they  are  seeking,  and 
there  is  no  essential  difference  in  their  general  theory  from 
that  which  science  and  common  sense  unite  in  enjoining. 

1  Laetitia  directe  mala  non  est,  sed  bona  ;   Tristitia  autem  contra  directe  est 
mala.  —  Spinoza  :  Ethica,  Pars  IV,  Propositio  XLI. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

NATURE  OF  THE  SOUL. 

Biology  has  overthrown  the  anthropocentric  theory  as  astronomy  has  the 
geocentric,  and  every  creature  lives  in  and  for  itself  and  shares  with  man  to 
some  degree  the  sublime  attributes  of  mind  and  soul.  —  Course  of  Biologic 
Evolution,  p.  26. 

Angelangt  an  dieser  aussersten  psychologischen  Consequenz  unserer 
monistischen  Entwickelungslehre  begegnen  wir  uns  mit  jenen  alten  Vor- 
.stellungen  von  der  Beseelung  aller  Materie,  welche  schon  in  der  Philosophic 
des  Demokritos,  Spinosa,  Bruno,  Leibniz,  Schopenhauer  einen  ver- 
schiedenartigen  Ausdruck  gefunden  haben.  .  Denn  alles  Seelenleben  lasst 
sich  schliesslich  auf  die  beiden  Elementar-Functionen  der  Empfindung  und 
Bewegung,  auf  ihre  Wechselwirkung  in  der  Reflexbewegung  zuriickfiihren. 
Die  einfache  Empfindung  von  Lust  und  Unlust,  die  einfache  Bewegungsform 
der  Anziehung  und  Abstossung,  das  sind  die  wahren  Elemente,  aus  denen 
sich  in  unendlich  mannichfaltiger  und  verwickelter  Verbindung  alle  Seelen- 
thatigkeit  aufbaut.  '  Der  Atome  Hassen  und  Lieben,'  Anziehung  und  Ab- 
stossung der  Molekiile,  Bewegung  und  Empfindung  der  Zellen,  und  der  aus 
Zellen  zusammengesetzten  Organismen,  Gedankenbildung  und  Bewusstsein 
des  Menschen  —  das  sind  nur  verschiedene  Stufen  des  universalen  psycho- 
logischen Entwicklungsprocesses.  —  Ernst  Haeckel  :  Die  heutige  Ent- 
wicklungslehre  im   Verhdltnisse  ztir  Gesa/funt'ivissenschaft,  p.  14. 

The  night  has  a  thousand  eyes, 

And  the  day  but  one; 
Yet  the  light  of  the  bright  world  dies 

With  the  dying  sun. 
The  mind  has  a  thousand  eyes, 

And  the  heart  but  one; 
Yet  the  light  of  the  whole  life  dies 

When  the  day  is  done. 

Francis  W.  Bourdillon  :  Light. 

In  view  of  the  fact  that  the  word  so?il,  like  the  word  ivill,  is 
a  popular  and  not  a  technical  one,  and  that  all  the  elements 


Nature  of  the  Soul.  45 

that  it  can  be  shown  to  possess  are  known  by  other  special 
names  and  can  be  referred  to  their  proper  places  in  a  system 
of  psychology,  some  are  disposed  to  drop  the  term  altogether 
in  all  attempts  to  treat  the  mind  scientifically,  as  liable  to  lead 
to  confusion  rather  than  contribute  to  clearness.  But  I  think 
its  retention  can  be  justified  as  supplying  a  place  which  no 
other  term  in  use  now  supplies,  and  in  thus  avoiding  the  neces- 
sity of  introducing  a  new  one.  It  is  true  that  it  expresses  a 
complex  conception  whose  elements  may  be  separated  and  are 
specifically  named,  but  there  is  need  of  a  term  to  embrace  these 
elements  in  combination,  and  thus  frequently  obviate  a  circum- 
locution, besides  having  the  advantage  of  conveying  a  crystal- 
lized idea  and  familiarizing  it.  The  English  word  has,  indeed, 
many  vague  and  unscientific  associations  from  which  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  liberate  it,  but  the  corresponding  German  word  Scele 
seems  to  be  freer  from  these  and  is  used  by  scientific  writers 
in  substantially  the  same  sense  that  will  be  given  here  to  the 
word  soul. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  this  sense  has  little  in  com- 
mon with  that  given  this  term  by  religious  writers  and  by  the 
medieval  or  modern  Christian  writers.  This  latter  sense,  how- 
ever, is  not  noticeably  different  from  that  of  the  New  Testament 
{}\ivyy]  in  the  Greek  and  aniuia  in  the  Latin  Vulgate),  and  no 
complaint  is  made  of  its  use  by  these  writers.  Neither  does  it 
differ  essentially  from  the  earlier  Greek  usage  or  from  that  of 
Scipio  the  younger,  Cicero,  and  others  who,  long  anterior  to 
Christianity,  speculated  upon  immortality  if  they  did  not  teach  it. 
That  doctrine,  as  shown  by  Tylor,  was  not  such  a  stranger  to 
other  nations  as  it  was  to  the  Hebrews,  and  the  distinctive 
characteristic  of  Christianity  was  the  engrafting  of  this  foreign 
tenet  upon  Judaism  in  which  it  was  previously  unknown. 

But  by  none  of  these  writers,  whether  pagan  or  Christian,  was 
there  ever  any  attempt  to  analyze  the  soul  or  to  look  upon  it 
philosophically  as  a  part  of  the  mind.  The  conception  was 
purely  ontological,  and  by  most  the  existence  of  a  soul  in  man 


46  S^ibjcctivc  Factors. 

was  simply  taken  for  granted,  while  concern  was  only  mani- 
fested for  its  future  destiny  after  the  corporeal  part  should  have 
returned  to  its  elements.  There  is,  however,  one  important 
respect  in  which  this  conception  harmonizes  with  the  scientific 
one,  and  that  is  the  uniform  investiture  of  it  with  the  capacity 
for  enjoying  and  suffering.  In  whatever  language  and  from 
whatever  standpoint  the  soul  has  ever  been  mentioned  it  has 
always  been  identified  with  pleasure  and  pain  and  made  to  em- 
body the  deepest  expression  of  sympathy  and  feeling. 

If  therefore  we  define  the  soul  as  the  feelings  taken  collectively 
we  do  but  echo  the  common  sentiment  of  all  mankind  in  all 
countries  and  all  ages.  Still,  this  definition  falls  short  in  one 
particular  of  expressing  the  full  conception  as  it  presents  itself 
to  the  mind,  and  it  is  necessary  to  add  to  it  the  notion  con- 
tained in  the  workings  of  the  conative  powers,  as  set  forth  in 
Chap.  VI.  The  full  definition  of  the  soul  therefore  becomes  : 
The  collective  feelings  of  organic  beings  and  their  resultant 
efforts. 

No  subject  can  be  thoroughly  understood  without  prolonged 
investigation,  and  profound  reflection.  Down  to  the  present 
century  the  soul,  notwithstanding  the  amount  of  time  and  energy 
expended  upon  it,  had  never  been  the  subject  of  any  such  critical 
study.  A  great  amount  of  keen  analysis  and  ingenious  spec- 
ulation had  been  given  to  the  thinking  and  knowing  faculty,  and 
it  must  be  admitted  that  the  real  knowledge  of  the  objective 
side  of  the  mind  had  been  considerably  advanced.  But  the 
])hilosophers  who  were  capable  of  doing  this  studiously  avoided 
turning  their  attention  to  the  soul,  doubtless  from  a  vague 
apprehension  that  should  they  do  so  it  might  prove  capable  of 
analysis  whereby  its  ontological  oneness  would  be  destroyed 
and  the  supposed  foundations  of  religion  and  hopes  for  the 
future  would  be  put  in  jeopardy.  On  the  other  hand  theologians 
and  religious  writers  possessed  no  such  powers  of  analysis,  and 
accepting  their  alleged  knowledge  of  the  soul  from  sacred  writ, 
had  no  disposition  or  inducement  to  make  it  the  subject  of 


Nature  of  the  Soul.  47 

speculative  inquiry.  Although  laboring  directly  for  a  state  of 
infinite  happiness  for  the  soul  they  would  resent  any  insinuation 
that  this  was  equivalent  to  seeking  the  maximum  pleasure,  and 
although  hoping  eventually  to  attain  to  a  condition  of  the  most 
exalted  feeling  they  would  deny  with  warmth  that  feeling 
was  in  any  sense  a  proper  end  to  pursue.  All  men  vied  in 
their  efforts  to  degrade  the  feelings  and  by  constantly  measuring 
all  feelings  by  the  lowest  succeeded  in  fastening  a  stigma  upon 
most  terms  employed  to  describe  them,  as  witness  the  words 
sensual  and  sensuality.  Even  the  wealth  of  the  German  lan- 
guage in  its  vocabulary  of  attributes  of  the  mind  was  incapable 
of  furnishing  such  a  master  of  it  as  Kant  with  a  term  for  the 
subjective  psychic  phenomena  which  should  be  free  from  these 
implications,  and  he  was  driven  to  use  for  this  purpose  the  word 
SinnlicJikeit  in  an  altogether  new  and  technical  sense,  the 
popular  one  implying  something  even  more  gross  or  specialized 
t?ian  its  English  analogue  sensuality.  Thus  tabooed,  the  ani- 
mated feelings,  or  true  soul,  could  not  be  expected  to  receive 
that  penetrating  criticism  which  alone  could  yield  a  true  con- 
ception of  its  nature,  and  the  whole  subject  remained,  philo- 
sophically and  scientifically  speaking,  a  terra  incognita}  It  was 
given  over  entirely  to  other  agencies,  to  art,  literature,  religion, 
and  government,  all  of  which  proceeded  blindly  and  added 
nothing  to  its  extent  or  fruitfulness. 

But  with  the  introduction  of  the  scientific  method  and  its 
all-exploring  spirit,  so  fertile  a  field  could  not  longer  remain 
uncultivated.  As  the  body  began  to  be  made  the  theater  of 
research  and  the  brain  and  nervous  system  to  be  studied,  the 
functions  of  these  organs  attracted  more  and  more  the  attention 

^  But  the  grievous  lack  of  generally  accepted  results  is  most  apparent  in  the 
domain  of  feeling.  The  discussion  of  feeling  in  most  manuals  is  very  meagre  and 
unsatisfactory.  ...  It  is  obvious,  then,  on  the  most  cursory  review  that  very 
little  has  been  accomplished  in  the  pure  psychology  of  feeling.  Here  is  a  region 
almost  unexplored,  and  which,  by  reason  of  the  elusiveness  and  obscurity  of  the 
phenomena  has  seemed  to  some  quite  unexplorable.  —  Hiram  M.  Stanley  in 
Science,  Oct.  7,  1892,  Vol.  XX,  pp.  203-204. 


48  Subjective  Factors. 

of  physiologists  ;  and  a  new  psychology  was  introduced  which, 
naturally  enough,  has  no  sympathy  or  patience  with  the  old. 
But  by  a  sort  of  induction  in  the  varied  approximate  electric 
thought-currents  the  students  of  pure  mind  began  to  feel  the 
new  impulse  and  unconsciously  to  change  the  base  of  their 
speculations.  This  change  of  base  consisted  chiefly  in  over- 
coming the  former  aversion  to  the  study  of  the  subjective  side 
of  mind,  and  taking  the  bare  hint  thrown  out  by  Kant,  to 
subject  the  feelings  and  conative  faculty  to  the  cold  glance 
of  reason.  In  a  future  chapter  (Chap.  X)  I  shall  dwell  espec- 
ially upon  one  such  philosophical  system  and  endeavor  to  show 
some  of  the  results  which  this  movement,  as  yet  scarcely 
begun,  promises  for  the  future.  This  revolution  is  proceeding 
from  the  intellect  to  the  feelings  and  tending  to  transfer  the 
working  basis  of  philosophy  from  the  reason  to  the  soul. 

The  birth  of  the  soul  was  the  dawn  of  the  psychic  faculty. 
It  marks  an  era  in  the  cosmical  history  of  the  earth.  Dimly 
and  imperceptibly  it  worked  through  the  primordial  ages  in  the 
Silurian  mollusk,  the  Devonian  fish,  and  the  Mesozoic  reptile, 
producing  scarcely  any  modification  in  the  normal  course  of 
biologic  evolution.  During  all  these  vast  eons  of  time  the 
only  organic  products  of  beauty  or  utility  were  such  as  nature 
in  her  objectless  march  chanced  to  produce.  But  with  the 
advent  of  the  highly  developed  insects  in  late  Cretaceous  and 
early  Tertiary  time  the  psychic  factor  began  to  react  upon  the 
plant  world  and,  as  I  have  several  times  pointed  out,^  flowers 
were  the  direct  product  of  a  growing  esthetic  faculty  —  the 
response  to  the  demands  of  a  true  soul-force  in  nature.  Later 
the   same   agency   working   in   bird   life    and    mammalian   life 

1  The  relation  between  insects  and  plants,  and  the  consensus  in  animal  and 
vegetable  life.  The  American  Entomologist,  Vol.  Ill,  New  York,  March,  iSSo, 
pp.  63-67  ;  April,  1S80,  pp.  87-91.     See  especially,  p.  87. 

The  Course  of  Biologic  Evolution,  Annual  Address  of  the  President  of  the  Bio- 
logical Society  of  Washington,  delivered  January  25,  1890.  Proceedings,  Vol.  V, 
Washington,  1890,  pp.  23-55.  ^^^  especially,  pp.  46-48  (pp.  24-26  of  separately 
paged  reprint). 


Nahire  of  the  Sotil.  49 

ushered  in  the  rich,  showy  and  nutrient  fruits  of  the  forest 
and  the  bread-yielding  grains  of  the  meadow  and  the  marsh. 
The  wonderful  revolution  wrought  by  this  same  growing  soul 
in  the  relations  of  the  sexes  among  the  creatures  last  mentioned 
has  also  been  dwelt  upon  ^  and  might  fittingly  form  the  theme 
of  the  future  poetry  of  science.  In  human  society,  as  I  shall 
presently  endeavor  to  show,  the  soul  is  the  great  trans- 
forming agent  which  has  worked  its  way  up  through  the  stages 
of  savagery  and  barbarism  to  civilization  and  enlightenment, 
the  power  behind  the  throne  of  reason  in  the  evolution  of  man. 

1  In  later  parts  of  the  address  last  cited. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF   DESIRE. 

The  state  which  prompts  the  organism  to  seek  any  object  whatever  is 
properly,  though  to  limited  degrees  of  intensity,  a  state  of  pain.  But  the 
inclination  to  seek  an  object  is  desire,  and  thus  desire  is  psychologically  a 
painful  state.  Desire  may,  therefore,  be  called  negative  pain,  being  the 
disagreeable  state  experienced  from  a  lack  of  the  means  of  fulfilling  a 
normal  function,  as  distinguished  ixoxw  positive  pain,  which  is  the  disagree- 
able state  experienced  from  having  been  deprived  of  such  means  previously 
possessed.  —  Dynamic  Sociology,  II,  149. 

Cupiditas  est  ipsa  hominis  essentia,  quatenus  ex  data  quacunque  ejus 
affectione  determinata  concipitur  ad  aliquid  agendum.  —  Spixoza  :  Ethica, 
Pars  III.     Affect uuni  Dejinitiones,  I. 

Id  unusquisque  ex  legibus  sujc  naturns  necessario  appetit  vel  aversatur, 
quod  bonum  vel  malum  esse  judicat.  —  Spinoza  :  Et/iica,  Pars  IV,  Propo- 
sitio  XIX. 

La  concupiscence  et  la  force  sont  la  source  de  toutes  nos  actions  :  la 
concupiscence  fait  les  volontaires  ;  la  force  les  involontaires.  —  Pascal: 
Pensccs,  I,  p.  220. 

Desires  are  ideal  feelings  that  arise  when  the  real  feelings  to  which 
they  correspond  have  not  been  experienced  for  some  time.  —  Herbert 
Spencer  :  Principles  of  Psychology,  I,  p.  126. 

There  are  pains  arising  from  states  of  inaction  —  pains  we  call  them, 
since  we  here  use  the  word  as  antithetical  to  pleasures  ;  but  they  are  best 
known  as  discomforts  or  cravings,  from  having  a  quality  in  which  they  are 
like  one  another  and  unlike  pains  commonly  so  called. — Ibid.,  p.  273. 

When  there  come  to  be  cases  in  whicli  two  very  similar  groups  of 
external  attributes  and  relations  have  been  followed  in  experience  by 
different  motor  changes  ;  and  when,  consequently,  the  presentation  of  one 
of  these  groups  partially  excites  two  sets  of  motor  changes,  each  of  which  is 
prevented  by  their  mutual  antagonism  from  at  once  taking  place  ;  then, 
while  one  of  these  sets  of  nascent  motor  changes  and  nascent  impressions 
habitually  accompanying  it,  constitutes  a  memory  of  such  motor  changes 


The  Philosophy  of  Desire.  51 

as  before  performed  and  impressions  as  before  received,  and  while  it  also 
constitutes  a  prevision  of  the  action  appropriate  to  the  new  occasion,  it 
further  constitutes  the  desire  to  perform  the  action. — Ibid.,  p.  481. 

AUes  Wollen  entspringt  aus  Bediirfniss,  also  aus  Mangel,  also  aus 
Leiden.  Diesem  macht  die  Erfiillung  ein  Ende.  —  Schopenhauer  : 
Welt  als  Wille  und  Vorstellung,  I,  230-231. 

Der  Wunsch  ist,  seiner  Natur  nach,  Schmerz  :  die  Erreichung  gebiert 
schnell  Sattigung  :  das  Ziel  war  nur  scheinbar:  der  Besitz  nimmt  den  Reiz 
weg  :  unter  einer  neuen  Gestalt  stellt  sich  der  Wunsch,  das  Bediirfniss 
wieder  ein  :  wo  nicht,  so  folgt  Oede,  Leere,  Langeweile,  gegen  welche  der 
Kampf  eben  so  qualend  ist,  wie  gegen  die  Noth. — Ibid.,  370. 

Jede  Befriedigung  nur  ein  hinweggenommener  Schmerz,  kein  gebrachtes 
positives  Gliick  ist.  —  Ibid.,  443. 

Sed  dum  abest  quod  avemus,  id  exsuperare  vldetur 
Cetera  ;    post  aliut,  cum  contigit  illud,  avemus 
Et  sitis  aequa  tenet  vital  semper  hiantis. 

Lucretius:  De  Reruin  Adtura,  III,  1082-1084. 

Nihil  enim  seque  gratum  est  adeptis  quam  concupiscentibus.  —  Pliny 
THE  Younger  :  Episi.  XV. 

It  has  been  a  thousand  times  observed,  and  I  must  observe  it  once  more, 
that  the  hours  we  pass  with  happy  prospects  in  view  are  more  pleasing  than 
those  crowned  with  fruition.  —  Goldsmith:   Vicar  of  Wakefield,  I,  337. 

It  was  shown  in  Chap.  VI  that  intensive  sensations  nor- 
mally give  rise  to  immediate  movements  towards  the  pleasurc- 
and  from  the  pain-producing  object.  With  the  simpler  or 
presentative  sensations,  feeling,  taste,  and  smell,  this  is  usually 
possible  since  the  object  is  already  present  and  in  contact  with 
the  nerve.  The  hand  shrinks  from  the  hot  iron  ;  the  mouth 
closes  more  and  more  upon  the  savory  morsel  or  quaffs  the 
pleasant  beverage.  But  with  sensations  at  all  remote,  that 
is,  with  those  which  are  in  any  degree  representative,  the 
movement  may  be  in  whole  or  in  part  prevented.  If,  for 
example,  the  food  or  drink  be  merely  seen  at  a  greater  or  less 
distance,  even  if  a  movement  toward  it  is  immediately  begun, 
time  is  required  to  reach  it,  and  should  obstacles  intervene  it 
may  be  brought  to  rest.      So  if  danger  be  reported  by  sound 


52  Subjective  Factors. 

or  sight,  and  flight  from  it  be  imi)eclcd  by  confinement  or 
chains,  motion  does  not  result.  Nevertheless  the  sensation 
thus  representatively  produced  exists  and  the  state  of  con- 
sciousness endures  for  a  longer  or  shorter  period.  This  state 
of  consciousness  is  a  desii'e  either  to  approach  or  to  retreat. 

Representative  sensations  are  necessarily  derivative.  The 
first  organic  being,  though  it  were  of  a  high  type  of  structure, 
would  be  incapable  of  desire.  Desire  presupposes  a  psychic 
apparatus  built  up  by  the  psychic  process.  Its  essential  pre- 
requisite is  the  registration  of  impressions  and  the  continuity 
of  conscious  states.  In  short,  desire  presupposes  vicniory.  A 
representative  sensation  is  a  remembered  sensation,  and  desires 
are  the  recorded  and  remembered  pains  and  pleasures  of  sen- 
tient beings. 

The  simple  presentative  sensations,  though  common  enough,' 
are  little  noted  and  comparatively  unimportant.  The  more  com- 
plex representative  ones  are  constantly  arising  and  in  the  higher 
forms  of  life  become  the  dominant  states  of  consciousness, 
absorbing  attention  and  making  up  the  greater  part  of  the  life 
of  all  sentient  beings.  The  examples  given  are  among  the 
simplest.  The  principal  cases  are  those  residing  in  the  in- 
ternal emotions.  In  man  these  latter  assume  supreme  impor- 
tance and  overshadow  all  others.  The  entire  being  is  a  theater 
of  multiplied  desires  seeking  satisfaction  through  appropriate 
action,  but  checked  in  a  thousand  ways  and  encountering  innu- 
merable obstacles.  There  results  a  perpetual  striving  to  attain 
the  objects  of  desire.  The  full  significance  of  the  conative 
faculty  cannot  be  comprehended  until  this  truth  is  clearly 
grasped.  It  is  the  jirincij^le  of  effort  or  exertion  {conari,  to 
endeavor)  constantly  in  active  operation,  leading  to  all  forms  of 
action.  It  is  this  too  that  rounds  out  the  conception  of  the 
sotil,  and  without  which  it  possesses  little  meaning. 

I  use  the  word  dcsiir  in  a  highly  generic  sense,  broad  enough 
to  embrace  every  inclination  to  act  in  obedience  to  intensive 
representative  feelings  of  whatever  class.     These   "  springs  of 


The  Philosophy  of  Desire.  53 

action"  are  manifold  and  may  be  variously  classified.  The 
primary  conception  is  that  of  appetence,  and  under  this  are  in- 
cluded all  appetites.  Most  imperative  of  all  are  the  desires  that 
conduce  to  self-sustentation,  hunger  diWdi  thirst.  Including  with 
these  the  other  indispensable  needs  of  the  body,  such  as  cloth- 
ing and  shelter  for  man  in  cold  climates,  we  have  a  congeries 
which  can  be  conveniently  grouped  under  the  general  term 
luaut.  Next  in  degree  of  essentialness,  if  it  does  not  hold  an 
equal  or  higher  rank,  is  that  which  demands  the  perpetuation 
of  the  species,  the  sexual  appetite,  and  this,  when  viewed  from 
the  human,  social  standpoint,  clothed  with  all  the  secondary 
attributes  which  civilization  has  given  it,  and  refined  and 
spiritualized  by  the  moral  elevation  of  intelligence  and  culture, 
becomes  expanded  into  a  lofty  sentiment  and  may  be  charac- 
terized by  the  general  term  love.  To  these  must  be  added  the 
social,  esthetic,  moral,  and  intellectual  cravings,  the  yearning 
after  the  beautiful,  the  good,  and  the  true. 

Even  this  sweeping  classification  falls  far  short  of  conveying 
an  adequate  conception  of  the  conative  powers,  or  soul-force  in 
nature.  Every  emotion  belongs  to  this  faculty  and  helps  to 
swell  the  vast  tide  of  surging  passion  that  propels  the  ship  of 
sentient  life.  All  animated  nature  is  burning  and  seething 
with  intensified  desires.  On  the  one  hand,  we  have  attractions, 
charms,  allurements,  and  enchantments  ;  hopes,  aspirations, 
longings  ;  determination,  zeal,  ambition  ;  and  on  the  other 
hand  we  have  fear,  dread,  apprehension  ;  avoidance,  aversion, 
abhorrence  ;  disgust,  hate,  envy  ;  rivalry,  jealousy,  anger  ;  rage, 
fury,  and  despair.  In  another  direction  are  seen  grief,  sorrow, 
sadness,  repentance  and  remorse,  as  the  expressions  of  the 
unattained,  misdirected,  or  irretrievably  lost.  Even  satiety, 
surfeit,  tedium,  and  ennui  become  intolerable  demands  for  the 
exercise  of  normal  physical  functions. 

So  widely  varying,  complex,  and  recondite  are  these  affective 
phenomena  of  mind  that  it  is  not  surprising  that  their  common 
bond  of  union  should  have  been  usually  lost  sight  of,  and  the 


54  Subjective  Factors. 

general  truth  ignored  that  they  represent  a  single  great  fact, 
conation  —  the  universal  struggle  for  the  satisfaction  of  desire. 
And  so  different  do  the  manifold  desires  appear  to  be,  that 
only  by  giving  the  subject  the  closest  attention  is  it  possible 
to  arrive  at  a  general  conception  of  their  true  nature.  One 
truth  at  least  seems  to  have  been  clearly  grasped  and  ade- 
quately recognized,  and  that  is  that  desire  in  its  essential 
nature  is  a  form  of  pain.  It  is  true  that  there  are  some  de- 
sires that  it  is  customary  to  associate  with  pleasure,  and  many 
confound  them  with  pleasures,  but  when  closely  studied  it  will 
always  be  found  that  this  is  due  to  the  difficulty  in  separating 
the  desire  from  its  appropriate  object.  It  is  often  almost  im- 
possible to  concentrate  the  attention  upon  the  purely  cona- 
tive  state  and  disregard  entirely  for  the  time  being  the  end 
which  it  seeks  to  attain.  This  difficulty  does  not  exist  in 
such  desires  as  hunger,  where  the  acknowledged  painful  state 
receives  the  special  name  of  pangs.  Similarly  with  thirst,  but 
with  love,  even  in  its  primary  form,  the  pleasurable  end  be- 
comes intimately  associated  with  the  instinct.  It  needs,  how- 
ever, only  to  be  conceived  as  never  attaining  its  object  to 
bring  out  its  painful  nature  in  clear  light.  Not  so  the  more 
involved  states  of  that  passion  in  refined  natures.  Such  love 
is  conceived  to  be  a  joy  and  a  great  good.  But  here  again  it 
is  requited  love  that  occupies  the  foreground,  and  the  constant 
presence  of  the  one  loved  is  the  thing  thought.  Remove  this 
associated  idea  and  think  only  of  love  itself,  the  object  toward 
which  it  is  directed  being  wholly  left  out  of  the  mind,  and 
conceive  this  state  to  continue  indefinitely,  as  when  that  object 
is  dead,  permanently  absent,  married  to  another,  or  incapable 
of  returning  any  part  of  the  sentiment.  No  one,  I  think,  will 
deny  that  under  any  of  these  circumstances  it  were  better  not 
to  love.  Ergo,  love  is  pain.  Even  the  other  forms  of  love  in 
which  sex  takes  no  part,  as  parental,  filial,  fraternal  love,  or 
merely  warm  friendship  that  takes  that  name,  —  any  of  these 
in  the  permanent  absence  of  the  object  is  painful.      In  case  of 


The  Philosophy  of  Desire.  55 

death  it  becomes  grief,  often  inconsolable,  and  even  temporary 
separation  causes  anxiety,  longing,  and  sadness,  which  are  cer- 
tainly not  pleasurable  feelings.  And  so  we  might  go  through 
the  list  and  show  that  in  every  case  desire  pure  and  simple,  in 
and  of  itself,  is  pain. 

But  the  final  and  crucial  test  of  the  question  consists  in  the 
patent  fact  that  all  the  effort  that  is  put  forth  in  obedience  to 
desires  is  in  the  direction  of  satisfying  them.  And  to  satisfy 
a  desire  is  simply  to  allay  it,  i.e.,  to  terminate  it.  In  other 
words,  the  unpleasant  nature  of  desires  is  proved  by  the  fact 
that  we  always  seek  to  end  them.  Correctly  understood,  all 
the  enormous  exertions  of  life  are  made  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
getting  rid  of  the  swarm  of  desires  that  goad  and  pursue  every 
living  being  from  birth  to  death.  Too  much  has  not  been  made 
of  this  fact  by  a  certain  class  of  writers  who  have  laid  stress 
upon  it,  and  the  better  it  is  understood  the  clearer  will  be  the 
true  conception  of  the  subjective  nature  of  mind.  No  one 
need  be  afraid  to  face  this  truth.  Those  who  shrink  from  the 
corollaries  that  have  been  drawn  from  it,  need  not  shrink  from 
the  truth  itself.  I  shall  endeavor  to  show  that  some  of  these 
corollaries  do  not  legitimately  flow  from  it.  I  shall  also  hope 
to  make  clear  that  other  corollaries  that  have  never  been  drawn, 
do,  and  must  necessarily  follow,  and  that  these  latter  are  of  the 
utmost  importance  and  promise  the  greatest  results  for  the 
future  welfare  of  man. 

This  much,  at  least,  has  been  learned,  that  desire  is  the  all- 
pervading,  world-animating  principle,  the  universal  nisiis  and 
l^ulse  of  nature,  the  mainspring  of  all  action,  and  the  life- 
power  of  the  world.  It  is  organic  force.  Its  multiple  forms, 
like  the  many  forces  of  the  physical  world,  are  the  varied  ex- 
pressions of  one  universal  force.  They  are  transmutable  into 
one  another.  Their  sum  is  unchanged  thereby,  and  all  vital 
energy  is  conserved.  It  is  the  basis  of  psychic  physics  and 
the  only  foundation  for  a  science  of  mind. 

It  should,  however,  be  added  that  the  parallel  between  physics 


56  Subjective  Factors. 

and  psychics,  as  thus  defined,  fails  at  one  point.  While,  so  far 
as  is  known,  there  has  ne\-er  been  any  loss  of  psychic  energy, 
it  is  certain  that  there  has  been  an  immense  increase  of  it. 
Indeed,  time  was  when  none  existed.  It  has  developed  or  been 
evolved  with  all  organic  nature  and  has  increased  pari  passu 
with  the  increase  of  mind  and  the  development  of  brain.  Com- 
plete analogy  between  the  organic  and  inorganic  forces  is  not 
reached  until  it  is  recognized  that  the  former  are  derived  from 
the  latter,  and  that  vital  and  psychic  forces  are  simply  addi- 
tional forms  of  the  universal  force.  The  soul  of  man  has  come 
from  the  soul  of  the  atom  after  passing  through  the  great 
alembic  of  organic  life. 

While  all  desire  is  pain  all  pain  is  not  desire,  except  in  the 
sense  of  an  inclination  to  escape  it.  Ordinary  pains  are  not 
the  desires  themselves  but  causes  of  action.  They  are  more 
or  less  peripheral  and  direct,  whereas,  as  above  shown,  desires 
usually  arise  from  within,  are  representative,  and  more  or  less 
emotional.  These  fall  under  two  classes  :  those  which  shun 
pain,  and  those  which  seek  pleasure.  It  is  when  we  study 
these  two  classes  of  desires  that  we  perceive  most  clearly  the 
essential  difference  between  pain  and  pleasure  psychologically 
viewed.  It  has  already  been  shown  that  they  are  not  op- 
posites.  It  remains  to  be  shown  that  they  are  essentially  dis- 
similar psychological  factors.  Pain  is  the  more  simple,  is 
less  capable  of  analysis.  Developed  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
tecting the  organism  from  destruction,  it  consists  simply  in  a 
disagreeable  sensation  giving  rise  to  instantaneous  effort  to 
move  from  the  object  producing  it.  The  simultaneity  of  con- 
tact and  movement  allow  no  interval  of  time  for  the  occur- 
rence of  a  desire,  at  least  the  time  is  only  so  long  as  it  requires 
for  the  nerve  currents  to  perform  their  function,  which  is  too 
short  to  be  taken  into  the  account.  Such  is  the  nature  of  all 
direct  or  presentative  pains,  i.e.,  of  all  pains  other  than  desires, 
and  little  more  can  be  said  of  them.  They  admit  of  no  further 
analysis. 


The  Philosophy  of  Desire.  57 

Presentative  pleasures  are  much  more  limited.  They  are 
practically  restricted  to  the  senses  of  taste  and  smell.  In 
these,  as  in  pains  of  the  same  class,  no  desire  intervenes  be- 
tween the  contact  and  the  pleasure.  The  latter  is  immediate. 
In  order  to  make  all  possible  exclusions,  it  is  necessary  to 
admit  that  agreeable  sounds  and  objects  agreeable  to  the  eye 
usually  give  rise  to  the  corresponding  pleasures  directly  with- 
out the  intervention  of  anything  that  can  be  properly  called  a 
desire.  Possibly  other  cases  of  this  class  may  exist.  Group- 
ing all  these  under  the  head  of  presentative  pleasures,  there 
remains  the  great  class  of  representative  pleasures,  forming  by 
far  the  larger  part  of  all  enjoyments. 

If  now  we  limit  attention  to  this  class  of  pleasures,  and 
agree  that  by  pleasure  only  representative  pleasure  shall  be 
understood,  we  may  appropriately  inquire  what  pleasure  really 
consists  in.  To  this  at  once  the  answer  and  the  proper  defi- 
nition of  pleasure,  must  be :  the  satisfaction  of  desire.  That  is 
to  say,  the  predominant  class  of  pleasures  consists  in  the  ternii- 
nation  of  the  predominant  class  of  pains.  As  already  argued, 
pleasure  is  not  the  desire  itself.  It  is  the  satisfaction  of  that 
desire.  Although  desire  is  of  the  nature  of  pain,  and  is  pain 
in  every  proper  sense  of  the  word,  still  it  is  very  unlike  the 
simple  direct  pains  of  the  external  parts.  If  we  seek  among 
these  latter  for  its  analogue  the  nearest  we  find  to  it  is  prob- 
ably the  phenomenon  of  itching.  We  must  class  this  phe- 
nomenon among  painful  states,  because  it  calls  forth  an  effort 
to  terminate  it  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  yet  the  act  neces- 
sary to  put  an  end  to  it  yields  what  all  probably  recognize  as 
a  pleasure.  Itching,  therefore,  may  be  called  a  direct  physical 
desire.  If  allowed  to  continue  it  becomes  intolerable,  and  is 
therefore  a  pain.  If  the  act  which  it  prompts  is  performed 
the  desire  is  satisfied  and  at  the  same  time  terminated.  The 
act  itself  of  satisfying  it  is  a  pleasure.  If  all  these  steps 
be  admitted,  the  analogy  with  all  other  desires  is  complete. 
Desire  is  essentially  prurient  in  its  nature.      It  is  this  which 


58  Subjective  Factors. 

makes  it  so  effective.  Every  one  knows  how  much  more  bear- 
able pain  proper  is  than  itching.  Unsatisfied  desires  become 
unbearable,  they  charge  the  batteries  of  force  till  they  can 
contain  no  more;  the  discharge  produces  a  shock  and  performs 
extraordinary  feats,  whether  for  good  or  evil. 

The  desire  satisfied  and  terminated,  what  follows  .-'  Restora- 
tion of  equilibrium.  Whatever  may  have  been  accomplished 
upon  surrounding  objects  by  the  discharge  of  conative  energy 
the  only  effect  upon  the  subject  is  the  termination  of  the  un- 
pleasant conscious  state.  True,  the  desire  was  satisfied  and 
the  act  of  satisfying  it  produced  the  pleasure  sought,  but  after 
that,  nothing  !  Not  only  is  the  pain  gone,  but  the  pleasure  is 
also  gone.  Equilibrium  is  restored  and  the  subject  is  again  in 
the  same  condition  as  before  the  desire  arose.  Just  here  lies 
the  question  upon  the  answer  to  which  the  truth  or  falsity  of 
pessimism  depends.  That  doctrine  will  recognize  nothing  be- 
tween the  existence  of  a  desire  and  its  termination.  Admitting 
that  desire  is  pain,  it  sees  only  pain  and  the  relief  of  pain. 
The  satisfaction  of  desire,  it  says,  is  simply  the  termination  of 
it.  After  that  nothing  remains.  The  popular  association  of 
pleasure  with  the  satisfaction  of  desire  it  declares  to  be  a  delu- 
sion and  a  self-deception.  Can  this  doctrine  be  successfully 
refuted  ?  It  is  not  enough  to  dogmatize  against  it.  It  has 
been  exhaustively  elaborated  by  some  of  the  greatest  scholars 
and  deepest  thinkers  of  the  world,  and  their  arguments  must 
be  squarely  met. 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE    WILL   OF    SCHOPENHAUER. 

Nicht  allein  in  denjenigen  Erscheinungen,  welche  seiner  eigenen  ganz 
ahnlich  sind,  in  Menschen  und  Thieren,  v/ird  er  als  ihr  innerstes  Wesen 
jenen  namlichen  Willen  anerkennen  ;  sondern  die  fortgesetzte  Reflexion 
wird  ihn  dahin  leiten,  auch  die  Kraft,  welche  in  der  Pflanze  treibt  und 
vegetirt,  ja,  die  Kraft  durch  welche  der  Krystall  anschiesst,  die,  welche  den 
Magnet  zum  Nordpol  wendet,  die,  deren  Schlag  ihm  aus  der  Beriihrung 
heterogener  Metalle  entgegenfahrt,  die,  welche  in  den  Wahlverwandtschaf- 
ten  der  Stoffe  als  Fliehen  und  Suchen,  Trennen  und  Vereinen  erscheint,  ja, 
zuletzt  sogar  die  Schwere,  welche  in  aller  Materie  so  gewaltig  strebt,  den 
Stein  zur  Erde  und  die  Erde  zur  Sonne  zieht, — -diese  alle  nur  in  der 
Erscheinung  fiir  verschieden,  ihrem  inneren  Wesen  nach  aber  als  das  Selbe 
zu  erkennen,  als  jenes  ihm  unmittelbar  so  intim  und  besser  als  alles 
Andere  Bekannte,  was  da,  wo  es  am  deutlichsten  hervortritt,  IVille 
heisst. — -Schopenhauer:    Welt  als  Wille,  I,  131. 

Es  giebt  in  der  letzten  und  hochsten  Instanz  gar  kein  anderes  Seyn  als 
WoUen.  Wollen  ist  Urseyn,  und  auf  dieses  allein  passen  alle  Pradicate 
desselben  :  Grundlosigkeit,  Ewigkeit,  Unabhangigkeit  von  der  Zeit,  Selbst- 
bejahung.  Die  ganze  Philosophie  strebt  nur  dahin,  diesen  hochsten  Aus- 
druck  zu  finden.  —  Schellixg  :    Werke  I,  7,  S.  350. 

Wille,  die  eigentliche  geistige  Substanz  des  Menschen,  der  Grund  von 
Allem,  das  ursprijnglich  Stoff-Erzeugende,  das  Einzige  im  Menschen,  das 
Ursache  von  Seyn  ist.  —  Schellixg  :    Werke,  I,  10,  S.  289. 

Wie  Kant  der  grosste  Philosoph  ist,  der  iiber  den  Kopf  geschrieben  hat, 
so  ist  Schopenhauer  der  grosste  Denker,  der  iiber  das  Herz  philosophirte. 
—  Mainlander  :    Philosophie  der  Erlosung,  p.  465. 

Dies  [Schopenhauer's  doctrine  of  the  will]  war  ein  glanzendes  geniales 
Apergu,  und  ich  befiirchte  nicht,  mich  einer  Uebertreibung  schuldig  zu 
machen,  wenn  ich  sage,  dass  es  eine  Revolution  auf  geistigem  Gebiete 
eingeleitet  hat,  welche  ahnliche  Umgestaltungen  in  der  Welt  hervorrufen- 
wird,  wie  die  vom  Christenthum  bewirkten.  —  Mainlander  :    Ibid.,  p.  466. 

Great  thinkers  are  condemned,  not  for  their  theorems,  but 
for  their  corollaries,  and  further  analysis  often  proves  that  the 


6o  Subjective  Factors. 

latter  do  not  ]oi;"ically  flow  from  the  former.  It  was  so  with 
Hume,  so  with  \'oltaire,  so  witlr  Comte,  so  with  Thomas  Paine, 
and  it  was  so  w4th  Schopenhauer.  The  two  great  philosophical 
heresies  of  Schopenhauer  were  his  idealism  and  his  pessimism. 
Both  these  he  beliexed  to  follow  from  his  two  basic  conceptions, 
his  Satz  I'oni  Griindc  and  his  Willc.  The  former  was  the  first 
philosophical  establishment  of  the  law  of  causation  in  nature, 
now  recognized  as  the  foundation  of  all  science.  The  latter 
was  the  first  enunciation  of  the  unity  of  psychic  and  physical 
force,  the  highest  and  most  involved  example  of  the  law  of  the 
conservation  of  energy,  formulated  much  later  by  the  physicists. 
If,  as  most  persons  believe,  truth  really  is  to  "prevail,"  then, 
when  pessimism  and  idealism  shall  have  become  historic 
curiosities,  Schopenhauer  will  be  universally  recognized  as  the 
philosopher  who  created  two  epochs. 

With  the  first  of  these  philosophic  fundamentals  we  have 
here  nothing  to  do.  It  belongs  to  cosmology  and  has  received 
universal  acceptance.  The  second  is  the  essence  of  our  present 
theme,  and  is  scarcely  known,  much  less  understood,  even  by 
those  who  devote  themselves  to  philosophic  psychology.  It  is 
the  practice,  whenever  Schopenhauer's  name  is  pronounced,  to 
throw  up  the  hands  and  exclaim.  Pessimist  !  Those  who  read 
his  books  skim  over  everything  else  till  they  reach  his  pessi- 
mism and  hang  spellbound  over  this  alone.  The  more  it  is  con- 
demned the  more  greedily  it  is  devoured.  Yet  those  who 
denounce  it  most  vehemently  are  those  who  have  not  read  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  is  receiving  a  wide  acceptance  in  certain 
quarters  where  the  hard  conditions  of  existence  seem  to  give  it 
special  countenance.  I  have  already  intimated  that  it  does  not 
logically  follow  from  Schopenhauer's  doctrine  of  the  will,  and 
this  view  will  be  more  fully  substantiated  in  the  next  chapter. 
But  first  let  us  inquire  into  the  real  meaning  of  Schopenhauer's 
will. 

We  may  begin  by  saying  that,  so  far  as  sentient  beings  are 
concerned,  the  will  of  Schopenhauer  is  nothing  more  nor  less 


The   Will  of  Schopenhauer.  6i 

than  the  generalized  conception  defined  in  the  last  chapter  and 
denominated  desire.  It  is  the  universal  soul-force  operating 
under  the  inexorable  law  of  the  sufficient  reason  or  mechanical 
causation,  which  constitutes  the  only  basis  for  the  real  science 
of  mind.  It  is  the  underlying  cause  of  all  the  efforts  and 
activities  of  animated  nature.  It  is  purely  subjective.  In  and 
of  itself  it  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  rational  faculty. 
In  calling  it  HJiconscious  Schopenhauer  simply  means  this.  It 
is  blind  impulse  {blinder  Drang).  All  exertion,  all  interest,  all 
strife  and  struggle  represent  the  assertion  of  the  will  to  live 
{Bejahnng  des  Willens  zuni  Leben).  This  great  truth  is  forced 
home  with  all  the  power  of  the  German  language,  so  rich  in 
synonyms  and  so  forcible  in  construction.^ 

Schopenhauer  realized  that  he  had  found  in  this  conception 
of  the  will  the  true  basis  of  mind,  and  he  proceeded  to  endow 
it  with  objective  reality,  even  raising  it  to  the  dignity  of  being 
the  long  sought  Ding  an  sick,  or  thing  in  itself.  As  such  it 
was  declared  to  tower  in  importance  far  above  the  reason  and 
the  intellect.  From  one  point  of  view  he  was  correct,  for  this 
it  is  which  constitutes  the  dynamic  basis  of  mind  without 
which  reason  and  intellect  would  have  nothing  to  work  upon. 

He  also  rightly  perceived  that  the  will  had  priority  in  point 
of  time  over  the  thinking  faculties,  and  so  firmly  did  this  truth 
take  possession  of  him  that  he  was  wont  to  belittle  the  latter 
and  exalt  the  former.  Thus  he  declared,  and  not  without 
sound  reason,  that  the  intellect  was  merely  an  accident,  a  late 
graft  as  it  were  upon  the  full-grown  tree  of  mind;  that  the 
will  was  the  primary  trunk  of  that  tree.  It  is  true,  as  shown 
in  a  previous  chapter,  that  the  soul-force  itself,  when  con- 
sidered as  a  development  from  the  original  elements  of  life, 

^  Among  the  many  terms  employed  by  .Schopenhauer  to  compass  this  widely 
generic  conception  of  the  Wille  the  following  may  serve  as  samples  :  Wollen, 
Wunsch,  Suchen,  Versuchen,  Sehnen,  Sehnsucht,  Bestreben,  Bestrebung,  Streben, 
Trieb,  Drangen,  Drang,  Begierde,  liegehren,  Anstrengung,  Driicken,  Stoss,  Jagd, 
Neigung,  Reiz,  Regung,  Leiden,  Qualen,  Lieben,  Hassen,  Hoffen,  Fiirchten, 
I.eidenschaft,  Angst,  Ueberdruss,  Leere,  Langeweile,  Reue,  Wuth,  Zorn,  etc. 


62  Subjective  Factors. 

is  in  this  same  sense  an  accident  and  a  late  graft,  but  whether 
we  look  at  it  from  the  actual  standpoint  of  geologic  history 
or  from  the  broader  standpoint  of  structural  development,  the 
organ  and  function  of  thought  is  something  extremely  modern, 
while  the  conative  system  is  old.  Their  relative  antiquity  is 
somewhat  like  that  of  the  glacial  epoch  when  compared  with 
the  Eocene,  which  to  a  geologist  has  a  tremendous  significance. 
The  preeminent  service  which  Schopenhauer  has  rendered 
to  philosophy  has  been  that  of  turning  the  current  of  thought 
out  of  the  old  and  hopeless  channels  of  objective  psychology 
into  the  new  and  promising  channels  of  subjective  psychology. 
Here,  and  here  alone,  is  there  hope  for  a  science  of  mind. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

REFUTATION    OF    PESSIMISM, 

Alle  Befriedigung,  oder  was  man  gemeinhin  Gliick  nennt,  ist  eigentlich 
und  wesentlich  immer  nur  negativ  and  durchaus  nie  positiv.  Es  ist  nicht 
eine  urspriinglich  und  von  selbst  auf  uns  kommende  Begliickung,  sondern 
muss  immer  die  Befriedigung  eines  Wunsclies  seyn.  Denn  Wunsch,  d.  h. 
Mangel,  ist  die  vorliergehende  Bedingung  jedes  Genusses.  Mit  der  Be- 
friedigung hort  aber  der  Wunscli  und  folglich  der  Genuss  auf.  Daher 
kann  die  Befriedigung  oder  Begliickung  nie  mehr  seyn,  als  die  Befreiung 
von  einem  Sclimerz,  von  einer  Noth.  —  Schopenhauer  :  Welt  als  U'ille, 
I,  376. 

Uebrigens  kann  ich  hier  die  Erklarung  niclit  zuriickhalten,  dass  mir  der 
Optimismus,  wo  er  niclit  etwan  das  gedankenlose  Reden  Solcher  ist,  unter 
deren  platten  Stirnen  nichts  als  Worte  herbergen,  nicht  bloss  als  eine 
absurde,  sondern  auch  als  eine  wahrhaft  ruchlose  Denkungsart  erscheint, 
als  ein  bitterer  Hohn  iiber  die  namenlosen  Leiden  der  Menschheit.  — 
Schopenhauer  :  Ibid.,  3S4-385. 

Ainsi^ous  ne  vivons  jamais,  mais  nous  esperons  de  vivre  ;  et  nous 
disposant  toujours  a  etre  heureux,  il  est  inevitable  que  nous  ne  le  soyons 
jamais.  —  Pascal  :  Pcnsees,  II,  41. 

Man  hat  mich  immer  als  einen  vom  Gliick  besonders  Begiinstigten 
gepriesen  ;  auch  will  ich  mich  nicht  beklagen  und  den  Gang  meines  Lebens 
nicht  schelten.  Allein  im  Grunde  ist  es  nichts  als  Miihe  und  Arbeit 
gewesen,  und  ich  kann  wohl  sagen,  dass  ich  in  meinen  fiinfundsiebzig 
Jahren  keine  vier  Wochen  eigentliches  Behagen  gehabt.  Es  war  das 
ewige  Walzen  eines  Steines,  der  immer  von  neuem  gehoben  sein  wollte.  — 
Goethe  :  Eckerinami's  Gesprdche,  I,  106. 

Ich  bin  nicht  geschaffen,  um  Familienvater  zu  sein.  Ausserdem  halte 
ich  das  Heirathen  fur  eine  Siinde,  das  Kinderzeugen  fiir  ein  Verbrechen. 

Es  ist  auch  meine  Ueberzeugung,  dass  derjenige  ein  Narr,  noch  mehr : 
ein  Siinder  ist,  der  das  Joch  der  Ehe  auf  sich  nimmt.  Ein  Narr,  well  er 
seine  Freiheit  damit  von  sich  wirft,  ohne  eine  entsprechende  Entschadigung 
zu  gewinnen  ;  ein  Sunder,  well  er  Kindern  das  Leben  giebt,  ohne  ihnen  die 
Gewissheit  des  Gliicks  geben  zu  konnen.  Ich  verachte  die  Menschheit  in 
alien  ihren  Schichten  ;  ich  sehe  es  voraus,  das  unsere  Nachkommen  noch 


64  Subjective  Factors. 

weit  unijlucklichcr  sein  werden.  als  win  —  sollte  icli  nicht  ein  Sunder  sein, 
wenn  ich  trotz  diesen  Ansichlen  fiir  Nachkommen.  d.  h.  fiir  Ungliickliche 
sorgte  ?  — 

Das  ganzc  Lcbcn  ist  der  grosste  Unsinn.  Und  wenn  man  achtzig  Jahre 
strebt  und  forsclu,  so  muss  man  sich  doch  cndlich  gestehen,  dass  man 
Nichts  erstrebt  und  Nichts  erforscht  hat.  Wiissten  wir  nur  wenigstens, 
warum  wir  auf  dieser  Welt  sind  ?  Aber  AUes  ist  und  bleibt  dem  Denker 
rathselhaft,  und  das  grdsste  Gliick  ist  noch  das,  als  Flachkopf  geboren  zu 
sein.  —  Humboldt  :  Memoircn,  I,  365-367. 

Whoever  was  to  be  born  at  all,  was  to  be  born  a  child,  and  to  do  before 
he  could  understand,  and  be  bred  under  laws  to  which  he  was  always  bound, 
but  which  could  not  always  be  exacted;  and  he  was  to  choose,  when  he 
could  not  reason,  —  and  had  passions  most  strong,  when  he  had  his  under- 
standing most  weak,  —  and  was  to  ride  a  wild  horse  without  a  bridle,  —  and 
the  more  need  he  had  of  curb,  the  less  strength  he  had  to  use  it;  and  this 
being  the  case  of  all  the  world,  what  was  every  man's  evil,  became  all 
men's  greater  evil;  and  though  alone  it  was  very  bad,  yet  when  they  came 
together  it  was  made  much  worse  ;  like  ships  in  a  storm,  every  one  alone 
hath  enough  to  do  to  outride  it ;  but  when  they  meet,  besides  the  evils 
of  the  storm,  they  find  the  intolerable  calamity  of  their  mutual  concussion, 
and  every  ship  that  is  ready  to  be  oppressed  with  the  tempest,  is  a  worst 
tempest  to  every  vessel,  against  which  it  is  violently  dashed.  So  it  is 
in  mankind,  every  man  hath  evil  enough  of  his  own;  and  it  is  hard  for 
a  man  to  live  soberly,  temperately,  and  religiously  ;  but  when  he  hath 
parents  and  children,  brothers  and  sisters,  friends  and  enemies,  buyers  and 
sellers,  lawyers  and  physicians,  a  family  and  a  neighborhood,  a  king  over 
him,  or  tenants  under  him,  a  bishop  to  rule  in  matters  of  government 
spiritual,  and  a  people  to  be  ruled  by  him  in  the  affairs  of  their  souls;  then 
it  is  that  every  man  dashes  against  another,  and  one  relation  requires  what 
another  denies;  and  when  one  speaks,  another  will  contradict  him;  and  that 
which  is  well  spoken,  is  sometimes  innocently  mistaken,  and  that  upon 
a  good  cause  produces  an  evil  effect;  and  by  these,  and  ten  thousand  other 
concurrent  causes,  man  is  made  more  than  most  miserable.  —  Jeremy 
Taylor:    Works,  IX,  316. 

Youth  is  a  blunder;  Manhood  a  struggle;  Old  Age  a  regret. — 
Dlsrai:li:   Coningsby,  p.  118. 

There's  not  a  joy  the  world  can  give  like  that  it  takes  away.  —  Byron. 

Pessimism   is  the  nepjation  of  pleasure.  ^     It  was  shown  in 

1  ])Oth  Schopenhauer  anil  I  lartniann  recognize  the  reality  of  pleasure,  and  spend 
much  time  in  seeking  to  jjrove  that  it  is  greatly  exceeded  in  amount  by  pain.     ]>ut 


Refutation  of  Pessimism.  65 

Chap.  IX  that  in  the  normal  case  the  satisfaction  of  a  desire 
terminates  it  and  leaves  the  subject  in  the  same  condition 
psychologically  as  before  the  desire  arose.  This  is  clear  from 
the  habitual  use  of  the  word  satisfy  ?i\\f\  the  universal  admission 
of  its  appropriateness  to  express  the  fact.  For  nothing  can  be 
more  than  satisfied.  Enough  has  no  comparative.  This  is  ex- 
pressed with  force  and  euphony  in  the  German  proverb:  Satter 
tvie  satt  kanii  man  nicJit  ivcrdcn. 

This  much  settled,  the  question  recurs:  Does  anything 
intervene  between  the  desire  and  its  satisfaction }  Is  the  pain- 
ful state  called  desire  continuous  up  to  the  time  when  it  ceases 
altogether  and  the  mind  reverts  to  the  antecedent  state  }  A 
negative  answer  to  this  question  would  deny  the  existence  of 
pleasure,  relegate  happiness  to  the  limbo  of  delusions,  and  make 
pessimism  the  only  true  philosophy. 

The  answer  to  pessimism  comes  from  psychometry.  It 
comes  from  the  experimental  demonstration  that  all  psychic 
phenomena  consume  time.  If  the  act  of  gratifying  a  desire 
were  absolutely  instantaneous  there  would  be  no  answer  to 
the  pessimist.  We  should,  as  he  claims,  have  all  the  great 
struggles  of  life  with  no  other  reward  than  that  of  putting  an 
end,  one  after  another,  from  childhood  to  old  age,  to  the  intoler- 
able scourges  that  successively  beset  every  life.  Experience 
teaches  that  such  is  not  the  case,  but  it  has  been  proved  that 
in  matters  relating  to  the  mind  experience  is  not  a  reliable 
guide.  The  hallucinations  of  the  rational  faculty  are  among 
the  best  known  of  psychic  phenomena.  Scarcely  less  common 
and  well  attested  are  those  of  the  senses  themselves.  How- 
much  more  deceiving  must  be  those  emotional  states  that  be- 
long to  the  most  derivative  and  involved  of  mental  phenomena. 
Moreover,  there  is  an  especial  reason  why  these  latter  should 

Schopenhauer  expressly  declares  that  it  consists  simply  in  relief  from  pain,  and 
this  is  probably  also  Ilartmann's  idea.  This  is  a  mere  negative  state  and  does  not 
deserve  to  be  called  pleasure,  It  therefore  remains  true  that  pessimism  denies 
the  existence  of  positive  pleasure.  It  does  this  logically  at  all  events,  irrespective 
of  the  views  of  these  philosophers. 


66  Subjective  Factors. 

be  illusive.  It  has  been  seen  that  they  were  developed  to  pre- 
serve existence.  Nature  has  no  concern  for  them  as  ends. 
They  are  for  her  purely  means  to  the  great  end  of  continued 
and  increasing  life.  It  is  to  thia  end  that  every  being  is  made 
a  magazine  of  hopes.  The  reason  is  perpetually  called  upon  to 
subdue  extravagant  expectations.  Even  in  man  those  individ- 
uals are  rare  whose  judgments  are  of  any  value  against  their 
interests.  Prediction  of  results  is  in  most  cases  nothing  better 
than  betrayal  of  preferences.  Men  as  a  rule  believe  that  that 
will  happen  which  they  wish  to  happen.  Optimism  is  only  a 
higher  expression  of  desire.  It  is  the  assertion  of  the  will  to 
live.  No  one  is  capable  of  balancing  the  profits  and  losses  of 
life.  The  lower  in  the  scale  of  intelligence  the  more  complete 
this  incapacity.  The  same  innate  sentiment  which  prompts 
the  pursuit  of  pleasure  and  avoidance  of  pain  makes  every 
creature  cling  to  life  and  fly  from  death,  no  matter  how  intoler- 
able life  may  be  or  what  relief  death  would  give.  The  soul  is 
Xh^  fons  et  origo  of  all  illusions,  purposely  planted  there,  so  to 
speak,  to  lure  unhappy  beings  on  to  continue  and  multiply 
life.  Fear  of  death  is  itself  an  illusion,  since  it  is  only  pain 
and  not  death  that  is  terrible.  Faith,  hope,  buoyancy,  en- 
thusiasm, all  are  born  of  this  instinct  of  preservation.  Tem- 
peraments indeed  differ,  but  viewed  in  this  light  all  are  sanguine. 
Men  are  all  Micawbers  in  varying  degrees.  It  follows  that  in 
this  great  battle  for  life,  this  the  real  struggle  for  existence, 
truth  and  fact  are  wholly  without  influence  in  determining 
opinion  and  action.  It  is  easy  to  conceive  that  enjoyment 
itself,  which  is  the  ostensible  goal  of  it  all,  might  be  a  com- 
plete delusion  and  have  no  existence.  Much  of  it  is,  we  know, 
purely  imaginary,  and  why  might  it  not  all  be  so } 

In  view  of  all  this  it  behooves  those  who  teach  the  reality 
of  pleasure  and  happiness  to  prove  their  existence  by  some- 
thing more  than  common  experience.  To  attempt  this  it  will 
be  necessary  to  revert  for  a  moment  to  direct  or  presentative 
sensations.     So  long  as  we  consider  only  the  indirect  or  repre- 


Refutation  of  Pessimism.  67 

sentative  ones  we  are  liable  to  be  led  astray  by  the  all-powerful 
optimism  of  every  mental  constitution.  But  in  this  lower  form 
we  are  once  more  on  the  firm  ground  of  sense,  and  all  philoso- 
phers, though  admitting  the  fallibility  of  the  senses,  never- 
theless regard  them  as  the  absolutely  highest  criteria  of  truth. 
And  in  this  they  are  speaking  of  perception,  which  is  the 
second  step  in  the  psychic  process.  We  are  here  concerned 
with  sensation,  which  is  the  first  step,  and  as  such  one  remove 
■nearer  still  to  the  citadel  of  truth.  If  simple  sensation  cannot 
be  relied  upon  there  is  no  certainty  anywhere. 

If  I  place  a  lump  of  sugar  on  my  tongue,  I  experience  a 
sensation.  If  normally  constituted  I  can  declare  that  sensa- 
tion to  be  agreeable,  and  no  one  will  assume  to  gainsay  that 
declaration.  If  I  do  not  know  it  myself,  then  there  is  nothing 
that  I  can  claim  to  know.  As  compared  with  Descartes'  dictum 
its  sanction  is  immensely  greater.  There  is  no  ergo  in  it. 
It  is  the  simplest  possible  proposition:  I  experience  an  agree- 
able sensation.  With  those  who  would  dispute  it  it  would 
be  unprofitable  to  argue,  although,  if  I  were  to  say  at  any 
given  moment :  I  am  happy,  there  might  be  valid  ground  for 
questioning  it  on  account  of  the  complex  nature  of  the  sensa- 
tion and  the  deceptive  character  of  all  the  emotional  states. 

The  second  fact  to  be  observed  is  that  the  sensation  pro- 
duced by  the  sugar  is  not  instantaneous  or  brief,  but  con- 
tinuous, lasting  as  long  as  the  sugar  lasts,  though  diminishing 
in  force  from  an  apparent  gradual  exhaustion  of  the  capacity  of 
the  nerve  to  respond  to  the  stimulus.  Still  it  endures.  Without 
multiplying  illustrations  the  question  may  at  once  be  asked: 
Is  there  any  reason  in  the  nature  of  things  why  the  nerves 
that  govern  the  emotional  centres  should  not  also  possess  the 
power  of  more  or  less  prolonged  response  to  their  appropriate 
stimuli .'  And  is  it  not  a  natural  supposition  that  the  act  of 
gratifying  a  desire,  which  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  re- 
sponding to  a  stimulus,  may  be  one  which  consumes  more 
or  less  time .-'     The  new  experimental  psychology  leaves  this 


68  Subjective  Factors. 

no  longer  m  the  field  of  supposition.  It  demonstrates  it  as 
certainly  as  the  problems  of  electrieity  are  demonstrated.  It 
is  known  that  in  psychics  as  in  physics  no  phenomenon  can 
take  place  except  in  time,  and  the  velocity  of  nerve-currents, 
though  varying  greatly  in  different  cases,  are  ascertained  ap- 
proximately in  many  instances.  They  are  very  much  less  than 
those  of  most  physical  media,  and  in  general  it  may  be  said 
that  molecular  motion  is  much  slower  in  organic  than  in  in- 
organic bodies.  All  this  is  highly  favorable  to  the  view  that 
the  nerve  activities  and  vibrations  taking  place  in  the  act  of 
satisfying  a  desire  may  be  considerably  prolonged  or  in  certain 
cases  almost  indefinitely  continued.  As  to  the  exact  physio- 
logical nature  of  this  process  it  is  not  necessary  here  to  in- 
quire. Whether  there  is  actual  continuity,  or  whether,  as  is 
more  probable,  the  sensation  of  pleasure  in  all  cases,  presenta- 
tive  as  well  as  representative,  consists  in  a  series  of  more  or 
less  rapid  vibrations  or  molecular  discharges  along  the  nerve 
from  the  point  affected  to  the  brain,  so  rapid  as  not  to  be 
separable  in  consciousness,  and  yet  distinct  from  one  another, 
is  clearly  of  no  consequence  to  the  argument.  To  all  intents 
and  purposes  the  mental  state  is  a  continuous  one. 

In  the  higher  emotions  the  duration  of  the  pleasurable  state 
is  greater  than  in  the  lower  ones.  While  in  the  primary  phy- 
sical form  of  satisfying  love  it  is  only  momentary,  in  the 
secondary  sjjiritual  form  it  seems  to  be  indefinite  in  time.  That 
is,  so  long  as  the  object  is  present  the  pleasure  abides.  It 
would  seem  that  the  sentiment  takes  such  complete  possession 
of  the  individual,  so  thoroughly  permeates  the  appropriate 
nerve  centers,  plexuses,  and  fibers,  that  they  are  set  into  a  con- 
stant state  of  harmonious  vibration  throughout  which  renews 
itself  momentarily  and  reverberates  in  moderate  pulsations  of 
agreeable  molecular  activity  so  long  as  the  stimulus  remains. 
These  words  may  be  wholly  unscientific  but  they  are  the  best 
that  can  be  used  in  the  present  state  of  knowledge  respecting 
these  deep,  inner  processes. 


Rcftitation  of  Pessimism.  69 

What  is  true  of  love  is  true  also  of  other  permanent  pleasures 
and  enjoyments.  They  are  real  at  least  to  the  subjects  of 
them,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  consider  them  objectively 
real.  And  this  is  the  refutation  of  pessimism.  It  simply  aims 
to  prove  that  pleasure  is  an  objective  reality  and  not  a  psychic 
illusion.  It  does  not  pretend  to  deal  with  the  great  indictment 
against  the  woes  of  life.  I  look  upon  it  as  a  mark  of  healthy 
mental  development  that  there  should  have  arisen  philosophers 
whose  rational  powers  are  keen  enough  to  pierce  the  fogs  of 
optimism  in  which  the  rest  of  the  world  is  wrapped  and  who 
have  been  bold  enough  to  announce  that  life  is  so  largely  made 
up  of  pain.  Only  by  recognizing  it  can  any  mitigation  of  it  be 
expected.  But  the  despairing  view  that  Schopenhauer  and 
Hartmann  take,  borrowed  from  the  j^hilosophy  of  India,  is 
based  upon  the  supposed  necessity  of  this  state  of  things. 
With  them  it  is  the  will  perpetually  driving  its  victims  on 
toward  some  supposed  goal  of  relief  which  is  never  attained, 
or  if  attained  in  the  sense  of  the  pain  being  simply  ended, 
another  and  new  scourge  is  applied,  and  so  on  indefinitely. 
Therefore  they  see  no  hope  except  in  denying  the  will,  resist- 
ing its  power,  abandoning  all  hope  of  happiness,  refusing  every 
proffered  good,  and  letting  every  function  cease  until,  with  the 
cessation  of  life  itself  relief  shall  at  last  come  through  non-exis- 
tence. 

The  answer  to  this  side  of  the  pessimistic  philosophy  is  of  a 
very  different  character  from  the  last.  It  would  be  to  antici- 
pate my  theme  to  undertake  it  here,  but  that  final  answer  may 
be  foreshadowed  by  reverting  to  the  origin  and  function  of  pain 
as  set  forth  in  Chap.  VII.  The  woes  of  mankind  must  be 
looked  upon  as  the  voices  of  nature  telling  him  how  hard  they 
are  being  pressed  by  their  environment,  and  how  they  are 
growing  out  of  adaptation  to  it.  Pessimism  is  the  product  of 
a  hostile  social  state.  Its  answer  is  the  substitution  of  a  friendly 
social  state.  If  this  can  be  done  it  will  disappear.  The  greatest 
problem  that  science  has  before  it  is  that  of  overthrowing  pes- 


JO  Subjective  Factors. 

simism  in  the  only  way  in  which  it  can  be  overthrown  —  by  the 
amelioration  of  the  social  state.  The  philosophy  that  stands 
opposed  to  pessimism  and  must  ultimately  triumph  over  it  is 
not  optimism,  which  is  the  gospel  of  inaction,  but  vicliorism, 
which  is  scientific  utilitarianism,  inspired  by  faith  in  the  law  of 
causation  and  the  efficacy  of  well-directed  action. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

HAPPINESS. 

It  is  quite  remarkable  that  utilitarianism  should  have  been  most  strongly- 
defended  by  English-speaking  writers,  whose  language  is  notably  deficient 
in  terms  by  which  to  convey  the  delicate  shades  of  meaning  required  for  its 
adequate  elucidation.  The  need  of  a  milder  substitute  for  Jiappiness  has 
been  seriously  felt,  and  no  doubt  serves  to  obstruct  the  progress  of  rational 
views  on  this  subject.  That  the  defect  is  in  the  language  and  not  in  the 
conceptions  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  most  other  languages  possess 
better  words.  The  French  '■'■  boiiheur''^  or  the  German  '■'■  Gliickseligkeit^^'' 
had  they  their  counterpart  in  English,  would  afford  a  delightful  relief. — 
Dynamic  Sociology^  II,  147. 

Gliickseligkeit  ist  die  Befriedigung  aller  unserer  Neigungen.  —  Kant  : 
Kritik  der  reinen  Vcr?iu}ifi,  p.  532. 

Thus  recognizing,  at  the  one  extreme,  the  negative  pains  of  inactions, 
called  cravings,  and,  at  the  other  extreme,  the  positive  pains  of  excessive 
actions,  the  implication  is  that  pleasures  accompany  actions  lying  between 
these  extremes.  —  Herbert  Spencer  :  Principles  of  Psychology,  I,  p.  276. 

The  idea  that  happiness  is  something  different  from  pleasure 
probably  requires  no  serious  refutation.  It  prevailed  formerly 
because  there  was  supposed  to  be  something  essentially  bad 
about  pleasure,  while  happiness  was  regarded  as  morally  per- 
missible. Now  that  we  know  that  pleasure  is  the  original  good 
of  the  sentient  world  and  the  essential  condition  to  vital  ex- 
istence, there  is  no  room  for  anything  bad  in  it,  considered  in 
and  of  itself. 

But  some  will  maintain  that  the  idea  of  pleasure  is  associated 
more  especially  with  the  sensual  feelings,  while  that  of  happi- 
ness connects  itself  with  the  higher  emotional  ones,  and 
therefore  requires  special  explanation.  This  is  to  some  extent 
true,  but  it  is  perhaps  more  correct   to   define   happiness   as  a 


72  Subjective  Factors. 

condition  of  continuous  or  constantly  recurring  pleasures  of 
whatever  class,  predominating  largely  over  pains.  It  has  vari- 
ous degrees  from  mere  contentment  to  intense  enjoyment. 
Giving  the  subject  an  analytical  glance,  happiness  may  be  seen 
to  require  several  conditions.  The  first  of  these  is  health. 
Unless  the  functions  of  the  body  are  in  harmonious  operation 
nothing  worthy  of  the  name  happiness  can  exist.  And  yet 
there  is  an  immense  difference  in  the  power  of  different  parts 
of  the  system  to  diminish  happiness  by  their  derangement. 
Consumptives  are  often  happy,  even  buoyant,  to  the  last  mo- 
ment of  their  lives,  while  dyspeptics  are  proverbially  wretched, 
even  when  their  ailment  is  so  slight  as  to  carry  no  serious 
menace  of  death.  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that  the  reason 
for  this  wide  difference  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  lungs  are  sup- 
plied from  the  cerebro-spinal,  while  the  stomach  and  intestines 
are  supplied  from  the  great  sympathetic  nervous  system. 
Again,  the  extreme  nervous  suffering  of  women  whose  uterine 
systems  are  out  of  order  is  explicable  in  the  same  way,  while 
persons  suffering  severe  pain  upon  some  external  part,  as  the 
finger,  may  still  enjoy  much  of  what  life  otherwise  affords. 

It  has  been  maintained  that  all  that  the  most  perfect  health 
can  do  is  to  furnish  the  negative  form  of  happiness  known  as 
contentment.  But  there  are  reasons  to  believe  that  the  com- 
plete and  harmonious  performance  by  all  the  organs  of  the 
system  of  the  normal  functions  assigned  them  possesses  so 
great  a  volume  of  sustained  satisfaction  that  it  amounts  to 
positive  happiness  in  and  of  itself.  The  manner  in  which 
this  takes  place  must  be  that  described  in  Chap.  VI  (p.  32), 
where  it  was  shown  that  the  great  ganglionic  centers  that  pre- 
side over  the  so-called  vegetative  functions  of  the  animal  body 
are  not  wholly  irresponsible  to  the  supreme  ganglion  or  brain, 
and  that  along  with  the  proper  regulation  of  the  lower  ganglia, 
plexuses,  and  specialized  nerves,  there  goes  a  continuous  gentle 
molecular  discharge  to  the  brain,  notifying  it,  as  it  were,  that 
all  is  well.     It  is  only  of  this  that  the  subject  is  conscious,  and 


Happiness. 


Id 


these  health  reports,  as  they  may  be  styled,  are  gratefully  re- 
ceived and  conduce  to  a  general  sense  of  well-being.  Content- 
ment pure  and  simple,  as  distinguished  from  happiness,  would 
represent  the  condition  of  a  healthy  body  in  the  absence  of 
this  intercourse  between  the  great  ganglionic  centers  and  the 
brain. 

The  second  condition  to  happiness  to  be  noted  is  freedom, 
more  or  less  complete,  from  pain.  To  some  extent  this  condi- 
tion coincides  with  that  of  health.  For  even  if  we  refer  to  ill- 
health  the  accidental  external  pains  due  to  injury  or  local  dis- 
eases, there  still  remains  the  most  important  class  of  emotional 
pains  —  grief,  disappointment,  worriment,  fear,  regret,  remorse, 
anxiety,  etc.,  etc.  In  fact,  this  list  of  woes  lies  only  just 
outside  the  boundaries  of  that  vast  ocean  of  prurient  pains  de- 
scribed in  Chap.  IX  under  the  general  name  of  desires.  If  any 
of  these  remain  permanently  unsatisfied,  happiness  is  well  nigh 
impossible. 

This  forms  the  natural  transition  to  the  third  and  last  condi- 
tion to  happiness  that  need  be  specially  insisted  upon,  viz.,  the 
means  of  satisfying  desire.  This  is  by  far  the  most  important 
of  all  conditions,  because  health  and  freedom  from  pain  are  the 
normal  states  and  their  opposites  belong  to  pathology.  Their 
occurrence  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  is  unavoidable,  and  we 
have  only  nature  to  blame.  This  third  condition,  on  the  con- 
trary, is,  in  any  state  that  man  has  yet  attained,  comparatively 
rare,  whereas  inability  to  satisfy  desire  is  the  almost  universal 
estate  of  man,  and  moreover,  it  is  only  to  a  limited  extent  the 
fault  of  nature,  and  is  in  the  main  the  fault  of  social  surround- 
ings. 

But  this  needs  many  qualifications.  If  only  the  desires  to 
eat,  drink  and  reproduce  were  considered,  it  would  indeed  be 
untrue  that  the  means  to  them  were  generally  wanting.  From 
vast  numbers  even  these  are  more  or  less  withheld,  but  such 
must  perish,  therefore  those  that  live  must  possess  these  pri- 
mary means  of  satisfying  want.     But  such  satisfactions  consti- 


74  Subjective  Factors. 

tute  the  lowest  grade  of  happiness,  and  if  the  term  were  not 
here  used  in  a  broad  generic  sense  they  would  be  excluded  en- 
tirely. Happiness  in  the  popular  restricted  sense  is  the  experi- 
encing of  the  higher  emotional  pleasures  afforded  by  the 
gratification  of  social,  esthetic,  moral,  and  intellectual  tastes. 
It  is  the  means  of  doing  this  that  render  a  person,  a  community, 
or  a  nation  happy.  And  these  are  constantly  arising.  New 
wants  of  the  spiritual  nature  come  thick  and  fast  upon  one  an- 
other as  soon  as  the  coarser  necessities  of  existence  are  fully 
supplied.  It  is  really  true,  as  the  pessimists  claim,  that  there 
is  no  possibility  of  satisfying  all  desires,  for  if  they  could  all  be 
once  conceived  to  be  satisfied  new  ones  would  immediately 
arise  demanding  satisfaction.  Yet  the  degree  of  happiness  de- 
pends upon  the  relative  proportion  of  them  that  can  be  silenced, 
and  upon  the  nature  and  refinement  of  the  tastes  that  can  be 
gratified.  Therefore,  provided  the  means  of  supplying  wants 
can  be  secured,  the  greater  the  number  and  the  higher  the 
rank  of  such  wants,  the  higher  the  state  of  happiness  attaina- 
ble. The  problem  of  social  science  is  to  point  out  in  what  way 
the  most  complete  and  universal  satisfaction  of  human  desires 
can  be  attained,  and  this  is  one  with  the  problem  of  greatest 
happiness. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

FEELING,    FUNCTION,   AND    ACTION. 

The  \;^o  functions  absolutely  essential  to  life  are  nutrition  and  reproduc- 
tion. To  these  correspond  in  all  sentient  beings  two  classes  of  desires. 
These  may  be  denominated  the  gjislatory  and  the  sexiial  appetites.  By  the 
former,  the  sustenance  necessary  for  replenishing  the  tissues  is  attracted  to 
its  proper  place  in  the  system;  by  the  latter,  the  reproductive  act  is  rendered 
agreeable,  without  which  it  would  not  be  performed. 

Against  these  objects  of  nature  may  be  set  the  corresponding  objects  of 
the  organism,  or,  confining  ourselves  to  the  human  race,  they  may  be  called 
the  objects  of  man.  The  end  of  nature  is  the  preservation  and  perpetuation 
of  life;  that  of  man  is  the  satisfaction  of  desire.  —  Dynamic  Sociology,  I, 
468-469. 

The  satisfaction  of  desire  taken  in  its  broadest  sense  involves 
three  wholly  distinct  things,  feeling,  function,  and  action.  The 
first  of  these  has  been  already  considered  at  length,  and  needs 
only  to  be  set  down  in  its  proper  place  in  relation  to  the  other 
two.  As  the  condition  to  the  existence  of  plastic  organisms, 
its  sanction  is  of  the  highest  order,  but  from  the  standpoint  of 
nature  it  is,  as  the  formula  implies,  simply  a  means,  and  has 
no  value  in  itself.  The  end  to  which  it  is  the  means  is,  from 
this  standpoint,  function. 

In  what  has  been  aptly  and  appropriately  called  "  evolutionary 
teleology"^  the  broadest  conception  that  can  be  formed  of  the 
true  object  or  end  of  organic  life  is  that  of  transforming  inor- 
ganic into  organic  matter.  Many  have  conceived  this  ultimate 
end  to  be  perfection  of  structure,  but  when  closely  studied  it 
becomes  apparent  that  perfection  of  structure  is  only  one  of 
the  means  to  that  end.  Wherever  it  occurs  it  actually  accom- 
plishes this  purpose,  and  wherever  this  purpose  can  be  better 
•accomplished  in  other  ways  it  is  not  resorted  to.  Others  have 
supposed  that  the  great  purpose  of  organic  life  was  evolution, 

1  Asa  Gray,  Darwiniana,  New  York,  1877,  Chap.  XIII. 


76  Subjective  Factors. 

that  is,  the  production  of  an  ascending  series  of  higher  and 
higlier  types;  but  it  is  too  well  known  that  the  actual  series  is 
not  always  ascending,  and  that  wherever  survival  and  multipli- 
cation can  better  be  secured  through  degeneracy  that  takes 
place.  If  evolution  is  seen  to  have  been  the  prevailing  con- 
dition it  is  because  the  great  end  of  increasing  the  quantity  of 
organized  matter  is  better  subserved  thereby  than  by  any  other 
means.  This  is  exemplified  in  the  higher  types  of  both  plants 
and  animals.  Even  man,  although  far  from  the  largest  of 
animals,  sustains  this  law,  since  by  the  possession  of  that  most 
highly  organized  of  all  substances,  the  sapient  brain,  he  is  able 
to  multiply  his  numbers  and  expand  his  faunal  area  far  beyond 
the  limit  allotted  to  any  other  creature,  and  the  combined  mass 
of  organized  matter  in  the  bodies  of  all  the  individuals  of  the 
human  species  would  greatly  exceed  that  of  any  other  one 
species  of  animal  on  the  globe. 

The  application  of  all  this  to  the  subject  in  hand  lies  in 
the  fact  that  in  the  animal  world  this  end  is  secured  through 
performance  of  those  functions  which  are  the  necessary  con- 
sequences of  the  satisfaction  of  desire.  Feeling  impels  to 
function,  and  function  secures  protection,  nutrition,  growth, 
preservation,  reproduction,  multiplication,  and  perpetuation. 

Feeling  and  function  are  distinct  things.  They  have  no 
physiological  relation  to  each  other.  The  gustatory  and  nutri- 
tive organs  are  in  different  parts  of  the  body.  The  seat  of 
sexual  appetite  is  remote  from  that  of  gestation.  It  is  not  death 
and  the  extinction  of  the  species  that  prompts  to  flight  from  dan- 
ger, but  only  fear  of  pain.  And  yet  the  satisfaction  of  the  desire 
to  eat  results  in  the  preservation  of  the  individual  from  starva- 
tion, the  gratification  of  the  sexual  instinct  results  in  the  contin- 
uance of  the  species,  and  the  escape  by  flight  or  other  mode 
of  action  from  the  pain  that  enemies  would  inflict,  results  in 
safety  to  life.  The  two  are  essentially  unlike  and  it  is  only  by 
a  sort  of  preestablished  harmony  that  they  are  so  adjusted  as 
to  become  in  fact  cause  and  effect.      But  this  harmony  is  really 


Feeling,  Function,  and  Action.  'j'j 

not  pretistablished,  it  is  simultaneously  established  through  the 
laws  of  selection  and  survival,  and  in  this  respect  does  not 
differ  from  a  multitude  of  harmonies  now  familiar  to  naturalists 
under  the  name  of  adaptations. 

At  the  beginning  of  Chap.  XI  it  was  said  that  the  satisfaction 
of  a  desire  left  the  subject  in  the  same  condition  psychologi- 
cally as  before  the  desire  arose.  The  word  psychologically  was 
used  advisedly.  In  many  cases  it  does  not  leave  the  subject. in 
the  same  condition  physiologically.  This  is  because  it  results 
in  function.  The  satisfaction  of  the  desire  to  eat  supplies  the 
nutrient  material,  fills  the  stomach,  sets  the  organs  of  digestion 
and  assimilation  to  work,  enriches  the  circulation,  and  may 
make  a  lean  animal  fat  or  a  weak  one  strong.  The  reproduc- 
tive desire  passes  into  function  only  in  the  female,  but  in  her  it 
works  a  great  and  wonderful  series  of  changes,  resulting  in  new 
beings  of  the  race  to  which  the  parents  belong.  The  function 
of  pain  is  simply  protection  ;  i.e.,  it  is  negative,  and  although 
no  physiological  change  is  wrought  by  its  escape,  the  change 
which  would  have  been  wrought  had  it  not  been  escaped  is  pre- 
vented. When  it  comes  to  the  higher  emotional  desires  and 
their  satisfaction  the  function  is  more  obscure,  but  that  it  often 
exists  there  can  be  no  doubt.  Here  it  takes  the  form  of  the 
growth,  strengthening,  or  development  of  the  physiological  cen- 
ters, the  general  increase,  expansion,  and  refinement  of  the 
capacity  to  enjoy.  The  law  of  improvement  through  use,  so 
well  attested  in  all  other  psychological  processes,  holds  equally 
in  the  more  subtile  processes  of  the  inner  being,  and  the  esthe- 
tic tastes,  moral  sensibilities,  intellectual  pleasures,  and  social 
attributes  are,  as  all  know,  capable  of  cultivation  and  elevation 
as  well  as  of  intensification  and  multiplication.  And  through 
all  this  the  great  end  of  organic  life  is  attained,  since,  as  already 
remarked,  structural  perfection  renders  higher  organization 
possible  and  insures  survival  and  increase  in  the  general  sum  of 
materials  that  have  been  withdrawn  from  the  inorganic,  and 
permanently  added  to  the  organic  world. 


yS  Subjective  Factors. 

All  this  would  be  irrelevant  to  the  present  work  if  it  were 
not  so  intimately  connected  with  another  view  of  the  subject. 
Too  great  stress  cannot  be  laid  on  the  fact  \\vsX  function  is  the 
object  of  nature,  in  order  to  bring  it  into  sharp  contrast  with 
another  somewhat  new  and  startling  fact,  yet  not  less  a  fact, 
Xh2it  feeling  is  tlie  object  of  t/ie  sentient  being.  Still  using  the 
language  of  evolutionary  teleology,  it  may  be  truly  said  that 
Nature  never  intended  this  to  be  so.  Nature  looks  upon  feeling 
simply  as  a  means  to  function.  She  is  utterly  indifferent  to 
both  pleasure  and  pain.  This  is  seen  in  the  animal  world  where 
one  half  devour  the  other  half  and  cruelty  and  torture  are 
heartlessly  practised.  It  is  seen  in  the  human  race,  half  of 
which  is  so  sunk  in  hopeless  misery  that  they  ceaselessly  pray 
for  utter  annihilation,  and  even  in  the  other  half  there  flourishes 
a  philosophy  which  teaches  that  to  live  is  to  suffer  (jeben  ist 
leidcii)  and  finds  no  loftier  theme  than  the  misery  of  existence 
(filend  dcs  Daseins). 

But  in  creating  pleasure  by  which  to  compass  her  ends 
Nature,  as  it  were,  o'erreached  herself.  By  this  act  there  was 
brought  forth  at  once  the  despair  and  the  hope  of  the  world. 
Designed  as  a  means  it  at  length  became  an  end,  and  during 
the  last  half  of  the  earth's  history  there  has  gone  on  a  struggle 
between  Nature  and  Life  for  the  attainment  of  their  respective 
ends.  Wherever  these  proved  incompatible  the  end  of  Life 
must  fail  or  Life  must  cease,  but  in  a  great  number  and  variety 
of  cases  compromise  was  possible,  and  the  most  remarkable 
consequences  ensued.  Passing  over  for  the  present  the  sub- 
human phases  of  the  subject  which  can  be  better  treated  a 
little  later,  we  come  to  the  human  stage,  and  here  we  find  much 
more  clearly  defined  than  ever  before  this  great  antithesis  be- 
tween the  object  of  Nature  and  the  object  of  man.  The  careful 
student  of  man  and  of  human  history  easily  reaches  the  general- 
ization that  the  great  drama  of  human  life,  like  the  little  drama 
of  each  individual  life,  has  for  its  sole  theme  the  satisfaction  of 
desire.     The  dramatis  personcc  are  all  seeking  to  attain  some 


Feelings  Function,  and  Action.  79 

end,  to  carry  some  point,  to  further  some  scheme,  to  accomplish 
some  purpose,  to  gratify  some  ambition,  to  realize  some  aspira- 
tion. Or  else  they  are  seeking  to  escape  some  impending  evil, 
to  thwart  some  vile  plot,  to  defeat  some  nefarious  scheme. 
There  is  no  end  of  purposes,  some  good,  some  bad,  some  high, 
some  low,  but  there  is  always  a  purpose.  And  from  the  narrow 
standpoint  of  self  these  purposes  are  all  good  ;  that  is,  they  are 
good  for  the  agent,  or,  at  least,  are  believed  to  be  so.  But  this 
is  nothing  more  than  to  say  that  in  accomplishing  them  the 
agent  expects  to  secure  some  benefit  or  escape  some  injury, 
i.e.,  to  attain  pleasure  or  avoid  pain,  or  at  least,  in  the  ultimate 
analysis,  to  realize  a  balance  of  pleasure  or  happiness  over  pain 
or  misery.  For  the  sake  of  brevity,  then,  this  one  universal 
end  of  human  action  and  sole  object  of  man  may  be  said  to  be 
happiness.  The  conclusion  is  thus  finally  reached  that  tJie 
object  of  Naticre  is  function  zvJiile  the  object  of  man  is  happiness. 

The  above  will  serve  as  a  preparation  for  considering  the 
third  something  involved  in  the  satisfaction  of  desire,  which, 
for  want  of  a  better  term,  has  been  called  action.  Totally 
distinct  in  its  nature  from  both  feeling  and  function,  it  never- 
theless invariably  accompanies  these  and  mediates  between 
them  as  the  direct  consequence  of  the  former,  and  the  necessary 
condition  to  the  latter.  In  itself,  and  except  as  such  con- 
sequence and  condition,  it  is  utterly  useless  both  to  Nature  and 
to  the  organism.  To  the  former  it  is  simply  a  mechanical 
means,  to  the  latter  it  is  a  costly  burden.  Of  what  use  then  is 
it }  What  intrinsic  value  has  it .''  To  what  is  it  in  and  for 
itself  an  end  .'* 

To  the  answer  to  these  important  questions  a  separate 
chapter  must  be  devoted,  but  their  full  consideration  may  be 
anticipated  in  so  far  as  to  premise  that  for  the  subhuman 
world  of  life,  if  utility  can  be  predicated  of  this  soul-activity  at 
all,  the  only  beneficiary  that  can  be  conceived  of  is  organic 
progress  or  evolution.  In  the  human  stage,  however,  this 
beneficiary  assumes   a    more    concrete    form    and    may,    with- 


8o  Subjective  Factors. 

out  any  forced  interpretation  and  in  a  true  and  literal  sense,  be 
called  Society. 

The  threefold  truth  therefore  to  which  the  foregoing  con- 
siderations growing  out  of  subjective  psychology  in  general  and 
the  philosophy  of  desire  in  particular  have  led,  is,  if  we  do  not 
descend  to  the  subhuman  stage  of  existence,  that : 

1.  The  object  of  Nature  is  Function. 

2.  The  object  of  Man  is  Happiness. 

3.  The  object  of  Society  is  Action. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE   TRANSFORMING    AGENCY. 

The  social  forces,  in  tlie  sense  in  which  they  have  been  here  spoken  of, 
are  those  influences  which  impel  man  to  action.  They  are  qualities  residing 
in  men  which  determine  and  control  their  physical  activities.  They  have 
their  seat  in  the  nervous  system,  and  are  what  inclines  the  body  and  limbs  to 
move  in  any  particular  manner.  We  call  them  desires.  They  are  the  moni- 
tors which  prompt  us  as  to  the  demands  of  the  system,  and  propel  us  toward 
the  object  demanded.  Now  it  is  human  activity  which  has  exerted  the  great 
influence  upon  society  that  has  resulted  in  making  it  what  it  is.  It  is  action 
which  has  worked  out  human  civilization.  —  Dyna/m'c  Sociology,  I,  663. 

This  new  force,  manifesting  itself  in  at  least  three  prominent  ways  at 
almost  the  same  time  in  the  earth's  history,  and  producing  such  astonishing 
revolutions,  was  the  psychic  force  beginning  to  respond  to  a  long  process  of 
cephalization,  or  brain-enlargement,  in  the  animal  world.  It  represents  the 
birth  of  the  soul  in  nature  ;  it  was  the  response  to  a  demand  for  the  satis- 
faction of  wants,  of  instincts,  of  tastes  ;  it  was  the  first  expression  of 
purpose  and  of  will.  For  these  are  the  attributes  which  led  the  bee  to  seek 
the  nectar  from  the  flower,  the  bird  to  visit  the  brilliant  cluster  of  fruit,  or 
the  female  of  the  higher  creatures  to  choose  the  most  beautiful  male  for  its 
mate.  And  these  are  psychic  qualities  and  represent  the  subjective  half  of 
of  the  world  of  mind  —  the  great  heart  of  nature.  —  Coarse  of  Biologic 
Evolution,  p.  3 1 . 

The  profound  modification  accomplished  by  this  agency  [cross  fertiliza- 
tion] was  not  confined  to  size,  color,  fragrance,  and  the  secretion  of  nectar. 
The  forms  of  flowers  underwent  in  many  cases  a  complete  change,  and  an 
infinite  number  of  wonderful  irregularities  appeared,  varying  from  the 
slightest  differences  in  the  petals  to  the  amazing  abnormalities  of  the 
orchids,  all  calculated  to  adapt  plants  to  the  useful  ministrations  of  insects, 
sometimes,  as  in  the  yucca,  to  those  of  a  single  species  of  insect,  without 
which  reproduction  is  impossible. — Ibid.,  p.  25. 

In  that  branch  of  philosophy  designated  in  Chap.  I  by  the 
name  of  cosmology,  the  most  important  law,  notwithstanding 
the  recent  date  of  its  full  conception  and  acceptance,  is  that 
of  evolution.      In  the  organic  world  this  law  as  frequently  goes 


82  Stibjective  Factors. 

by  the  name  of  development.  The  history  of  organic  develop- 
ment has  been  made  the  theme  of  a  great  number  of  the  most 
important  modern  contributions  to  biology.  To  it,  Darwin, 
the  Newton  of  biology,  devoted  his  life,  producing  a  distinct 
epoch  in  that  science  and  a  revolution  in  human  thought.  His 
eminent  contemporaries  in  all  the  advanced  nations  of  the  world, 
especially  in  England,  Germany,  France,  and  America,  have 
grandly  seconded  the  great  movement,  until  the  literature  of 
the  subject  has  become  voluminous  and  it  is  still  rapidly  accu- 
mulating. Every  conceivable  problem  growing  out  of  this 
fertile  principle  has  been  attacked,  and  one  would  suppose  that 
there  could  remain  no  new  point  of  view  from  which  the  general 
subject  could  be  contemplated.  Notwithstanding  the  intense 
activity  so  long  manifested  in  this  field,  the  thoroughness  of  its 
treatment  at  the  most  competent  hands,  and  the  wealth  of  sub- 
stantial contribution  to  the  general  subject  of  evolution 
and  especially  to  the  department  of  organic  development, 
there  is  one  phase  which  has  been  neglected  the  importance 
of  which  to  the  problem  now  in  hand  demands  attention  in 
this  place. 

The  agencies  that  have  cooperated  in  the  production  of  the 
higher  types  of  life  are  divisible  into  two  distinct  classes. 
Those  of  the  first  of  these  classes  may  be  called  normal  or 
legitimate,  those  of  the  second  extra-normal  or  illegitimate 
agencies.  Normal  or  legitimate  agencies  give  rise  to  characters 
or  modifications  which  are  of  obvious  utility  to  the  organism. 
Extra-normal  or  illegitimate  ones  result  in  changes  which  are 
only  indirectly  beneficial,  or  they  may  be  of  doubtful  utility 
and  even  in  the  end  injurious.  Usually  though  apparently 
useless  they  prove  ultimately  of  the  highest  value.  It  is  the 
special  characteristic  of  extra-normal  influences  to  give  a  new 
direction  to  development,  to  create  unexpected  and  otherwise 
impossible  modifications,  landing  the  organism  upon  an  entirely 
new  plane  of  existence  and  completely  changing  the  future 
course  of  development. 


The   Transforming  Agency.  83 

Looking  more  closely  into  the  subject,  it  is  perceived  that  all 
progress  below  the  stage  at  which,  in  the  sentient  world,  the 
nervous  system  begins  to  call  forth  marked  activities  in  the 
direction  of  satisfying  distinctly  felt  wants  is  the  result  of 
normal  causes.  This,  of  course,  permanently  excludes  the  entire 
vegetable  kingdom.  It  also  relegates  to  this  stage  of  organic 
history,  the  whole  of  the  Primary  or  Paleozoic  period  of  geology, 
and  probably  all  but  the  latter  portion  of  Mesozoic  time.  Fur- 
ther, it  rules  out  of  the  domain  of  extra-normal  development 
all  the  lower  types  of  animals,  but  the  line  here  is  not  drawn 
at  the  beginning  or  end  of  any  of  the  great  structural  series. 
No  other  kind  of  structure  has  any  weight  in  determining  it 
except  nerve-structure,  but  this  necessarily  determines  it  irre- 
spective of  skeletal  or  any  other  type  of  structure.  In  fact, 
although  it  may  be  dimly  perceived  in  some  other  creatures 
both  lower  and  higher  in  the  accepted  scales  of  zoological  class- 
ification, it  first  clearly  manifests  itself  in  insect  life.  It  then 
comes  out  broadly  into  view  in  bird  life,  still  more  prominently 
in  mammalian  life,  and  most  decidedly  in  human  life. 

The  reader  will  be  quick  to  perceive  that  this  extra-normal 
agency  thus  described  corresponds  in  all  respects  with  what 
was  defined  in  Chap.  VIII  as  the  Soul,  and  it  remains  to  show 
that  it  is  this  that  constitutes  the  great  transforming  agency  in 
nature.  Hitherto  it  had  been  chiefly  the  environment  in  inter- 
action with  the  mere  vegetative  processes  of  life  that  had 
brought  about  modifications  of  structure  and  determined  evolu- 
tion. Now  it  is  chiefly  the  organism  acting  in  response  to  in- 
ternal promptings  of  definite  kinds  that  forces  change  and 
causes  transformation.  The  two  classes  of  evolution,  therefore, 
may  be  regarded  as  respectively  objective  and  subjective,  and 
subjective  evolution  is  the  first  chapter  in  the  science  of  sub- 
jective psychology.  It  begins  with  the  birth  of  the  soul  in 
nature,  the  initial  recognition  of  creature  wants,  the  origin  of 
desires,  and  the  beginning  of  that  great  crusade  whose  achieve- 
ments are  recorded  in  Chap.  IX. 


^4  Subjective  Factors. 

The  influence  of  the  transforming  agency  was  sometimes 
felt  upon  the  environment,  sometimes  on  the  organism,  but 
whatever  it  touched  yielded  to  its  power  and  became  molded 
into  harmony  with  the  ends  of  the  agent.  These  ends  were 
always  the  satisfaction  of  'desires.  The  immediate  means  was 
action  in  the  sense  defined  in  the  last  chapter,  and  in  this  sense 
action  constitutes  the  transforming  agency  itself,  and  subjective 
evolution  is  the  product  of  the  combined  workings  of  this 
agency  along  a  number  of  very  different  lines.  It  will  be 
profitable  to  pause  and  consider  for  a  moment  a  few  of  the  most 
striking  and  characteristic  of  these  transformations  in  the  sub- 
human stage  before  rising  to  the  important  consideration  of 
the  relations  which  the  subject  sustains  to  man  and  society. 

Among  the  most  remarkable,  and  at  the  same  time  primitive 
and  characteristic  phenomena  of  this  class  is  the  influence  of 
the  insect  world  upon  the  plant  world,  Down  to  the  close  of 
Jurassic  time  the  vegetation  of  the  globe  consisted  exclusively, 
so  far  as  now  known,  of  cryptogamic  and  gymnospermous 
plants,  i.e.,  of  plants  whose  reproductive  organs  were  incon- 
spicuous and  had  no  other  attribute  than  that  of  performing 
the  normal  function  of  such  organs.  This  was  accomplished 
either  by  some  kind  of  close  fertilization,  or  if  the  sexes  were 
separate,  by  the  wind  or  water  or  some  other  mechanical  and 
more  or  less  accidental  agency,  and  usually  was  only  made  cer- 
tain by  the  production  of  a  vast  quantity  of  spores  or  pollen- 
grains  adapted  to  easy  transportation.  It  is  known  that  during 
the  Cretaceous  epoch  the  class  of  plants  which  now  bear  true, 
often  showy  and  fragrant  flowers,  was  introduced,  although  no 
remains  of  the  flowers  themselves  have  as  yet  been  discovered 
at  this  early  date.^  Toward  the  close  of  this  same  epoch  and 
especially  during  early  Tertiary  time,  it  is  also  known  that  in- 
sects  resembling  the  present    Hymenoptera,   Coleoptera,   and 

1  Dr.  J.  S.  Newberry  in  February,  1886  (Trans.  N.  Y.  Acad.  Sci.,  vol.  V.,  p.  137), 
announced  the  discovery  of  the  flowers  of  a  helianthoid  plant  in  the  Amboy 
Clays  (Lower  Cretaceous)  of  New  Jersey,  for  which  one  month  later  (Bull.  Torr. 
Bot.  Club,  vol.  XIII.,  March,   1886,  p.  37)  he  proposed  the  name  PalcEanthiis. 


The   Transfomning  Agency.  85 

Lepidoptera  made  their  appearance.  So  it  is  now  known  that 
the  sole  purpose  of  showy  and  fragrant  flowers  is  to  attract  in- 
sects and  secure  cross  fertilization.  It  seems  to  be  a  legitimate 
scientific  deduction  that  these  were  entirely  due  to  the  agency 
of  insects  and  developed  pari  passu  with  the  higher  types  of 
these  latter  during  the  close  of  Secondary  and  beginning  of 
Tertiary  time.  Only  the  botanist  can  fully  estimate  the  sweep- 
ing character  of  this  great  transformation  wrought  by  the  spirit 
of  life  passing  into  mind,  embodied  in  these  humble  creatures, 
and  moving  over  the  face  of  nature. 

A  similar  epoch  was  inaugurated  a  little  later  when  bird  life 
began  to  react  upon  its  vegetable  surroundings.  Hitherto, 
though  showy  and  fragrant  flowers  may  have  been  borne  on 
herbs,  shrubs,  and  trees  which  insects  had  created,  all  fruits 
may  be  supposed  to  have  consisted  of  dry  capsules  or  other 
vessels  containing  chaffy  innutritions  seeds.  But  bird  mind 
proved  capable  of  transforming  these  into  pulpy  berries  or 
drupes,  or  nutritious  grains  stored  with  life-giving  albumen. 
The  fruit-trees  with  their  showy  and  luscious  pomes  and  drupes 
were  the  result,  while  the  grasses  came  into  existence  yielding 
the  bread-products  of  the  world. 

I  never  accepted  this  determination  on  account  of  the  now  well-established  fact 
that  the  Gamopetalae  were  of  late  development  and  the  Compositas  probably  the 
most  modern  order  of  plants.  But  not  having  seen  the  specipiens  and  no  figures 
having  been  published,  I  have  thus  far  refrained  from  any  expression  of  opinion  on 
the  subject.  Now,  however,  that  I  have  recently  had  an  opportunity  to  examine 
both  the  specimens  and  Dr.  Newberry's  drawings  of  them  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say 
that  his  claim  is  not  sustained  by  the  facts.  The  forms  are  probably  related  to 
those  obtained  from  the  Potomac  formation  on  the  James  river  at  the  Dutch  Gap 
Canal  by  Prof.  Wm.  M.  Fontaine  and  myself,  which  Prof.  Fontaine  refers  to 
Williamsonia,  usually  regarded  as  belonging  to  the  Cycadaceee. 

This  paragraph  was  written  in  February,  1S92,  and  may  be  allowed  to  stand 
but  early  in  April  collections  of  fosil  plants  were  made  by  Dr.  Eugene  Smith, 
State  Geologist  of  Alabama,  and  myself  from  two  very  favorable  localities  in  that 
state  belonging  to  the  Tuscaloosa  formation,  which  is  of  nearly  the  same  age  as 
the  Amboy  Clays  of  New  Jersey,  and  in  the  material  from  both  these  localities  I 
have  found  objects  which  closely  resemble  flowers  of  three  different  kinds.  In 
two  of  these  cases  either  sepals  or  petals  seem  to  be  represented,  but  of  course  it 
is  impossible  to  say  whether  they  were  colored  to  attract  insects  or  not. 


86  S2ibjcctive  Factors. 

There  is  reason  to  believe  that  while  mammalian  life  con- 
tributed somewhat  to  the  results  last  noted  it  performed  the 
further  service  of  accelerating  and  directing,  if  not  of  initiating 
the  development  of  nut-bearing  trees,  in  which,  however,  bird 
life  may  have  cooperated.  And  all  this  is  not  mere  fanciful 
speculation,  but  is  based  on  what  is  actually  known  of  the 
interrelations  of  animal  and  plant  life.  Only  the  special  details 
are  not  claimed  to  be  exact,  but  it  is  probable  that  if  the  whole 
truth  could  be  known  it  would  be  far  more  wonderful  than  the 
imagination  of  the  naturalist  is  likely  to  depict  it,  checked  by 
the  caution  which  all  scientific  study  inspires.  It  is  practically 
certain  that  but  for  this  psychic  agency  in  the  animal  world 
the  vegetation  of  the  earth  would  not  only  have  been  very 
different  from  what  it  is,  but  would  have  lacked  so  much  of 
what  now  contributes  to  the  sustenance  and  enjoyment  of  man 
as  to  render  the  globe  scarcely  habitable  for  him. 

Let  us  next  consider  one  of  the  more  important  of  those 
transformations  which  have  affected  the  animal  organism.  In 
the  lowest  forms  of  life  reproduction  is  asexual.  The  dif- 
ferentiation of  the  two  sexes  was  a  normal  process  of  evolution 
and  early  took  place.  At  first  reproduction  scarcely  differed 
from  nutrition,  of  which  even  in  the  highest  it  may  always  be 
regarded  theoretically  as  one  of  the  modes.  But  the  earliest 
forms  of  distinct  bisexuality  consisted  of  a  fertile  individual 
supplemented  by  an  accessory  fertilizing  agent  or  adjunct, 
which  latter  had  no  importance  or  use  except  to  serve  in  this 
one  capacity  of  dualizing  or  crossing  the  germ  to  prevent  its 
vitality  from  becoming  exhausted.^  Although  this  in  most 
cases  relatively  diminutive,  and,  except  for  this  one  purpose, 
wholly  insignificant  organism  might  with  propriety  be  called 
the  male,  and  the  other  primary  and  only  real  substance  of  the 
race  or  species  might  be  called  the  female,  still  it  is  clear  that 
the  latter  constituted  the  main  trunk,  and  for  all  other  than  the 

1  Or,  as  Weismann  would  say,  to  insure  variation  through  which  alone  natural 
selection  can  act. 


The   Transforming  Agency.  ^j 

one  purpose  mentioned,  really  was  the  organism.  As  further 
enforcing  this  truth,  many  cases  exist  in  which  the  services  of 
the  fertilizer  are  only  occasionally  necessary  and  the  main 
organism  is  capable  of  reproduction  without  its  aid,  at  least  up 
to  a  certain  point.  It  is  therefore  obvious  that  from  Nature's 
standpoint  the  female  is  the  organism  and  the  male  only  a 
sometimes  useful,  sometimes  necessary  adjunct  or  incident. 
With  further  development  a  nearer  approach  to  equality  be- 
tween the  two  sexes  was  attained,  but  in  nearly  all  invertebrate 
life  and  in  a  considerable  part,  especially  the  lower  forms  of 
vertebrate  life,  the  superiority  of  the  female  is  manifest.  In 
many  even  of  the  higher  insects  the  male  is  of  little  importance 
except  as  a  fertilizing  agent,  often  short-lived  and  without 
organs  of  nutrition  in  the  imago  state.  In  spiders  we  have  the 
now  familiar  fact  that  the  male  is  often  exceedingly  diminutive 
and  is  sometimes  made  the  prey  of  the  female  while  paying  his 
court.  In  the  mosquito  the  world  knows  nothing  of  him,  and 
when  seen  he  is  not  supposed  to  belong  to  the  same  type  of 
insects.  In  bees  he  is  the  drone  and  has  only  the  fertilizing 
function  to  perform.  In  many  fishes  there  is  a  great  disparity 
in  size  between  the  sexes,  and  even  in  some  birds,  as  the  hawks, 
the  female  is  larger  than  the  male. 

From  all  this  and  much  more  that  might  easily  be  adduced  it 
appears  evident  that  from  the  standpoint  of  nature,  and  accord- 
ing to  the  normal  processes  of  evolution,  the  female  is  the 
principal  sex  and  constitutes  the  main  trunk  of  development, 
she  alone  continuing  the  race,  except  that  in  the  higher  forms 
she  usually  requires  the  aid  of  a  fresh  element  derived  from  the 
male  to  cross  the  stock  and  renew  the  vitality  of  the  offspring. 
But  for  the  intervention  of  some  extra-normal  influence,  there- 
fore, female  superiority  would  have  been  found  to  be  universal 
in  the  animal  kingdom.  The  fact  that  in  most  birds  and  mam- 
mals the  opposite  is  the  case  becomes  an  anomaly  and  requires 
explanation.  This  explanation  is  found  in  the  law  we  are  here 
seeking  to  illustrate.     We   perceive   that,   as  in   the  cases   of 


88  Subjective  Factors. 

extra-normal  development  already  considered,  this  phenomenon 
began  to  manifest  itself  in  early  Tertiary  time,  the  precise 
period  when  the  soul-force  began  to  react  upon  the  vegetable 
world.  Though  a  very  dissimilar  phenomenon  in  itself  it  never- 
theless is  seen  to  have  a  very  similar  cause.  The  former  move- 
ment was  due  to  the  development  of  those  faculties  which  aid 
in  securing  supplies  of  nutriment  to  sustain  life,  in  the  height- 
ened powers  of  scent,  taste,  and  vision  ;  in  the  new-born  pleas- 
ure derived  from  nectar,  fragrance,  and  even  from  beauty  ;  in 
a  word,  it  came  with  the  dawn  of  the  esthetic  faculty,  its  first 
appearance  in  the  world,  and  yet  scarcely  different  from  what 
we  find  it  in  man,  who,  before  he  learned  the  new  truth  (and 
how  far  has  he  learned  it })  was  so  vain  as  to  claim  that  the 
beautiful  and  fragrant  flowers,  the  delicious  fruits,  and  the 
nutritious  grains  were  created  for  him  !  The  phenomenon  now 
under  consideration  was  also  the  result  of  the  growing  esthetic 
faculty.  It  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  coarser  reproductive 
instinct,  but  was  the  product  of  a  sharpened  sense  of  beauty, 
a  romantic  choice  of  partners  by  the  females  of  the  higher 
types  of  animal  life.  These  heartless  coquettes  condemned  to 
perpetual  celibacy  the  meaner  and  uglier  suitors  for  their 
charms,  and  only  admitted  to  the  privilege  of  parenthood  those 
which  by  superior  prowess,  physical  beauty,  size,  or  other 
attracting  qualities,  were  able  to  win  their  title  to  it.  Heredity 
did  the  rest,  and  the  product  is  the  proof  that  this  was  the 
method,  and  it  enables  us  to  form  a  definite  conception  of  the 
exact  nature  of  those  esthetic  sentiments  that  prompted  these 
selections.  Again  we  find  that  they  were  practically  identical 
with  the  higher  tastes  of  man,  since  he  regards  the  beautiful 
feathers  of  birds  and  the  branching  antlers  of  the  deer  and  elk 
as  among  the  most  pleasing  objects  that  can  appeal  to  the  eye. 
There  is  much  reason  for  regarding  the  faculty  of  cunning  as 
one  of  those  passports  to  female  favor  of  which  we  have  been 
speaking.  While  it  may  not  have  been  so  manifest  among  birds- 
and  among  those  mammals  of  which  mention  has  been  made,  it 


The   Transforming  Agency.  89 

may  have  constituted  a  leading  factor  in  the  hfe  of  the  ancestors 
of  man  during  their  presocial  and  prehuman  period.  We  know 
that  nothing  more  readily  captivates  the  human  female  than  the 
display  of  brilliant  mental  qualities,  and  it  is  easy  to  conceive 
that  the  female  Anthropus  of  the  African  or  Lemurian  forest 
may  have  been  more  attracted  by  male  sagacity  and  success  in 
circumventing"  rivals  than  in  any  other  quality.  If  this  be  so  it 
explains  many  difficulties  in  the  path  of  the  student  of  man. 
It  explains  especially  the  relatively  small  brain  of  woman 
and  places  the  large  brain  of  man  on  the  list  of  secondary 
sexual  characters.  Many  of  these  are  known  to  be  partially 
developed  in  both  sexes,  and  thus  may  be  understood  the  fact 
that  man  has  become  a  being  with  enormously  developed 
cerebral   hemispheres. 

There  is  one  aspect  of  this  question  which  possesses  especial 
interest.  It  was  shown  in  Chap.  X  that  the  intellect  as  com- 
pared with  the  soul  is  of  recent  date,  not  seeming  to  have 
appeared  until  late  in  Tertiary  or  even  in  Quaternary  time. 
If  the  above  hypothesis  could  be  sustained  it  would  furnish  a 
remarkable  confirmation  of  Schopenhauer's  claim  that  it  is  a 
mere  "accident."  Not  only  is  it  a  newcomer,  branching  off  in 
modern  times  from  the  time-honored  psychic  trunk  represented 
by  the  feelings,  but  it  is  an  accident  in  the  sense  that  it  was 
produced  by  what  have  here  been  called  extra-normal  or  illegiti- 
mate agencies  in  evolution,  so  that  had  Schopenhauer  been 
acquainted  with  the  laws  and  course  of  evolution  he  would 
doubtless  have  branded  it  as  the  bastard  product  of  unholy 
alliances.  Let  us  rather  regard  it  as  a  natural  child,  not 
responsible  for  its  origin,  and,  as  among  human  beings,  all  the 
more  likely  to  display  high  qualities  and  possess  sterling  worth. 

Having  glanced  at  the  results  accomplished  in  the  subhuman 
stage  by  the  transforming  agency  which  is  the  universal  con- 
comitant of  desire  seeking  satisfaction,  we  would  naturally  rise 
next  into  the  field  of  human  and  social  life  and  note  its  workings 
there,  but  although  it  will  be  necessary  for  the  sake  of  com- 


90  Subjective  Factors. 

pleteness  to  furnish  grounds  for  the  assertion  that  it  is  here 
that  this  law  may  be  seen  in  its  fullest  operation,  still,  for  many- 
reasons  it  will  be  advantageous  to  postpone  the  full  discussion 
of  this  subject  until  the  second  part  of  the  work  is  entered  upon 
when  all  the  preparatory  considerations  will  have  been  disposed 
of.  It  will,  therefore,  for  the  present  suffice  to  remark  that 
nearly  all  the  activities,  and  especially  the  substantial  achieve- 
ments of  man  fall  under  this  head.  The  great  variety  and 
intensity  of  human  desires,  all  finding  expression  in  those 
actions  which  are  intended  to  secure  their  satisfaction,  has, 
thus  incidentally  but  with  marvellous  effect,  wrought  changes 
in  man's  environment  far  greater  than  those  produced  by  the 
animal  inhabitants  and  greater  than  it  would  be  possible  for 
any  irrational  creature  to  effect. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE   DYNAMICS    OF   MIND. 

The  relation  which  the  mind-force  bears  to  these  sense-forces  is  similar  to 
that  which  the  rudder  operated  by  the  pilot  bears  to  the  sails  operated  by 
the  wind.  Desire  uninfluenced  by  intelligence  is  a  true  natural  force  and 
obeys  the  universal  law  of  dynamics.  Bodies  acted  upon  by  a  normal  force 
always  tend  to  move  in  straight  lines  either  from  the  impelling  or  toward 
the  attracting  body.  If  they  move  in  curves  or  irregular  lines,  it  is  because 
a  plurality  of  forces,  having  different  directions,  are  operating  upon  them. 
It  is  precisely  so  with  organisms  impelled  by  desires  only.  They  move  as 
directly  toward  the  objects  of  desire  as  do  the  objects  of  magnetic  attraction 
toward  the  attracting  magnets,  or  falling  bodies  toward  the  earth's  center. 
—  Dynamic  Sociology^  I,  486-487. 

The  pressure  of  hunger  is  an  actual  force  —  a  sensation  implying  some 
state  oi  nervous  tension  ;  and  the  muscular  action  which  the  sensation 
prompts  is  really  a  discharge  of  it  in  the  shape  of  bodily  motion  —  a  dis- 
charge which,  on  analyzing  the  mental  acts  involved,  will  be  found  to  follow 
lines  of  least  resistance.  Hence  the  motions  of  a  society  whose  members 
are  impelled  by  this  or  any  other  desire,  are  actually,  and  not  metaphoric- 
ally, to  be  understood  in  the  manner  shown.  —  Herbert  Spencer  :  First 
Principles^  p.  244. 

All  the  sciences  of  the  hierarchy  deal  with  forces.  Whether 
it  be  called  gravitation,  as  in  astronomy  and  barology,  or  heat, 
light,  electricity,  magnetism,  etc.,  as  in  those  branches  of 
physics,  or  elective  affinity,  as  in  chemistry,  or  the  vital  force, 
as  in  biology,  there  is  in  all  cases  a  dynamic  agent  determining 
the  phenomena  of  every  subdivision  of  knowledge  which  is 
entitled  to  be  called  a  science. 

The  sterility  of  the  old  psychology,  so  long  known  as  meta- 
physics, was  due  to  the  fact  that  it  was  without  any  such 
dynamic  agent.  As  such  it  was  essentially  lifeless.  It  dealt 
exclusively  with  the  intellect,  and,  as  will  be  shown  in  Part  II, 
the  intellect  is  in  no  proper  sense  a  force.      Metaphysics  pos- 


92  Subjective  Factors. 

sessed  no  animating  property,  no  vitalizing  or  vivifying  princi- 
ple. It  therefore  soon  degenerated  into  platitude  and  inanity. 
For  centuries  it  consisted  in  the  threshing  of  old  straw,  pul- 
verizing it,  until  it  choked  itself  with  the  very  dust  that  arose 
from  beneath  its  flail. 

Mind  only  becomes  a  science  when  grasped  in  its  entirety. 
The  dynamic  agent  resides  in  the  feelings.  The  mind-force  is 
the  soul.  The  psychic  power  inheres  in  the  emotions.  The 
propelling  energy  of  the  world  is  the  "Will  "  of  Schopenhauer, 
The  active  principle  of  sentient  nature  is  desire.  In  the 
language  of  romance  and  of  popular  speech  the  emotional  side 
of  life  is  called  the  Jicart.  Some  physiologists  have  been  dis- 
posed to  attribute  this  to  ignorance,  but  there  is  a  sense  in 
which  it  is  more  than  half  true,  even  from  the  standpoint  of 
physiology.  It  is  not  supposed  to  refer  to  blood-currents,  but 
to  nerve-currents,  and  if  there  is  any  nerve  center  that  is  en- 
titled to  be  called  the  seat  of  the  emotions  it  is  the  great  cardiac 
plexus  of  the  sympathetic  system,  and  the  strongest  emotions 
can  be  definitely  located  in  that  region  of  the  body.  But  there 
is  another  point  of  view  from  which  popular  language  can  be 
defended,  always  remembering  that  we  are  not  dealing  with 
literal  facts,  but  with  analogies.  The  physiological  heart  is, 
more  than  any  other  organ,  the  engine  of  the  living  body,  the 
force-pump  of  the  life-current,  and  the  seat  of  vital  power. 
Behind  it  and  impelling  it  is  the  system  of  nerve  fibers, 
plexuses,  and  ganglia  storing  and  transmitting  the  nerve-cur- 
rents that  constitute  the  power  itself.  But  it  is  this  same 
power,  only  ramifying  throughout  the  system  and  controlling 
every  organ  of  the  body,  that  impels,  by  its  rhythmic  pulsa- 
tions, every  bodily  movement  and  every  act  of  life,  the  con- 
scious and  rational  actions,  as  well  as  the  involuntary  and 
vegetative  functions.  And  it  is  not,  therefore,  a  mere  figure 
of  speech,  but  in  a  certain  correct  sense  the  expression  of  a 
scientific  truth  to  call  the  feelings,  as  they  are  here  treated,  the 
great  heart  of  nature,  in   contrast  with   the   rational  faculties, 


The  Dynamics  of  Mind.  93 

which  constitute  the  head  of  nature.  Both  together  form  the 
subject  of  a  true  science  dominated,  like  all  other  true  sciences, 
by  its  peculiar  form  of  the  universal  force,  and  therefore  capa- 
ble, like  other  sciences,  of  exact  treatment,  and  of  yielding 
with  such  treatment  beneficial  results.  Feeling  is  the  basis  of 
a  philosophy  of  action,  and  whether  viewed  from  the  standpoint 
of  achievement  and  progress  or  from  the  standpoint  of  ethics 
and  happiness,  it  constitutes  the  only  real  foundation  for  a 
science  of  mind.  Subjective  psychology  puts  a  heart  and  soul 
into  philosophy,  gives  it  life  and  meaning,  makes  it  practical 
and  utilitarian,  furnishing  a  key  alike  to  past  history  and  to 
future  jDrogress. 

Thus  viewed  it  can  be  seen  what  an  important  fact  feeling  is 
in  the  world  and  how  worthy  it  is  of  all  attention  and  honor. 
That  maudlin  sentimentality  that  would  banish  it  from  phi- 
losophy as  unworthy  a  place  by  the  side  of  its  great  grand- 
child, the  intellect,  must  be  overcome  if  psychology  is  to 
become  a  science,  and  the  equal  dignity  and  nobility  of  the 
emotions,  nay,  even  of  what  it  pleases  us  to  call  the  baser 
passions,  must  be  recognized  and  their  true  position  in  the 
scheme  of  philosophy  assigned  them.  When  this  is  done  not 
only  will  much  that  is  regarded  as  bad  be  seen  to  be  good,  but 
much  that  is  false  in  the  habitual  mode  of  reasoning  will  yield 
its  place  to  true  conceptions  of  nature  and  life. 

As  a  single  illustration  coming  under  this  last  head  may  be 
taken  the  popular  estimate  of  the  worth  of  woman.  Because 
she  does  not  possess  the  power  of  abstract  reasoning  to  the 
same  degree  as  man,  his  attitude  toward  her,  however  it  may  be 
expressed,  and  often  most  clear  when  unexpressed,  is  that  she 
possesses  little  relative  importance  in  the  world  beyond  her 
function  of  continuing  the  race.  While  she  could  reply  that 
there  was  a  period  in  his  phylogenetic  history,  when,  as  shown 
in  the  last  chapter,  he  was  literally  of  no  use  except  for  that 
function,  and  perhaps  not  necessary  even  for  that,  and  when 
she  was  in  very  truth  the  race  itself,  she  can  also  with  even 


94  Subjective  Factors. 

greater  effect  reply  that  her  emotional  nature,  in  which  he 
concedes  her  superiority,  is  not  only  far  older  in  the  history  of 
development,  but  far  grander  in  its  essential  nature  and  more 
useful  in  the  economy  of  man  and  society,  than  his  modern 
faculty  of  speculation.  Whatever  she  may  have  lost  by  the 
action  of  those  illegitimate  agencies  which  have  been  described, 
she  has  not  lost  that  greatest  of  all  possessions,  her  heart, 
which  still  beats  with  undiminished  force  and  regularity  in 
unison  with  the  pulsations  of  the  great  heart  of  nature  of  which 
it  is  a  part. 

The  central  and  all-important  truth  toward  which  all  that  has 
been  said  thus  far  in  this  work  has  tended,  is  that  desire  is  a 
true  natural  force.  There  is  not  the  least,  figurativeness, 
metaphor,  or  analogy  in  this  formula.  It  is  the  expression  of 
a  literal  truth.  The  psychic  force  conforms  to  all  the  estab- 
lished criteria  of  the  nature  of  a  force  and  is  capable  of  an  un- 
limited number  and  variety  of  concrete  illustrations.  It  obeys 
the  Newtonian  laws  of  motion.  An  animal  body  like  a  physical 
body,  acted  upon  by  a  single  force  will  move  in  a  straight  line 
in  the  direction  in  which  that  force  acts.  If  acted  upon  by 
two  forces  that  are  equal  and  opposite,  a  condition  no  rarer 
in  the  animal  than  in  the  physical  w^orld,  it  will  remain  sta- 
tionary. If  the  two  forces  be  neither  equal  nor  opposite,  it  will 
move  on  the  line  of  the  resultant  of  the  two.  But  as  in  the 
animal  the  forces  are  always  continuous,  the  effect  is  commonly 
that  of  constrained  motion  and  the  corresponding  curve  is 
described. 

Of  all  the  known  forms  of  force  or  modes  of  motion,  that  of 
magnetism  is  the  one  to  which  the  psychic  force  approaches 
most  nearly.  This  has  long  been  perceived.  The  most  typical 
of  all  the  desires  is  love,  and  in  the  French  language  the 
present  participle  of  the  verb  to  love  is  the  word  for  magnet. 
There  is  however  an  important  apparent  difference.  Whereas 
the  magnet  seems  to  attract  the  object,  in  desire  it  is  the  object 
that  attracts  the  subject.      But  in  reality  the  attractions  of  the 


The  Dynamics  of  Mind.  95 

magnet  and  the  object  are  strictly  mutual,  as  in  gravitation  of 
which  magnetism  seems  to  be  a  special  form,  and  in  the 
magnetic  properties  of  objects  there  are  all  degrees.  The 
psychic  force  may  also  be  likened  to  electricity.  The  animal 
body  may  be  regarded  as  a  battery  which  it  is  the  function  of 
life  to  keep  constantly  charged.  The  attachment  is  to  the 
muscles,  and  locomotion  is  analogous  to  that  of  an  electric 
car.  Again,  the  nervous  system  is  analogous  to  a  telegraphic 
or  telephonic  system,  the  fibers  representing  the  wires.  But  it 
is  not  in  these  analogies  that  the  proof  of  the  dynamic  character 
of  the  subjective  phenomena  lies.  It  is  in  the  nature  of  the 
phenomena  themselves  and  the  results  produced.  These,  as 
has  been  shown  and  as  will  be  more  fully  shown  in  future 
chapters,  are  indistinguishable  from  other  natural  phenomena 
under  the  operation  of  recognized  forces. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

SOCIAL    ACTION. 

All  objects  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  though  supposed  to  consist  of 
multitudes  of  molecules  which  are  moving  among  themselves,  and  though 
known  to  be  undergoing  secular  changes,  and  destined  to  manifest,  sooner 
or  later,  wholly  different  forms  without  human  agency,  may  nevertheless,  so 
far  as  man's  daily  dealings  with  them  are  concerned,  be  regarded  as  in  a 
state  of  repose  or  inertia.  The  forces  of  gravitation  and  chemical  reaction 
have  reduced  them  to  a  state  of  equilibrium.  Though  differing  immensely 
in  properties,  in  form,  size,  consistency,  etc.,  they  are  most  of  them  in  so 
far  tangible  that  they  allow  their  relations  to  be  changed  at  the  hands  of 
man.  In  short,  they  neither  escape  him,  nor  resist  him,  nor  refuse  to  be 
subdivided,  modified  in  form,  or  transported  in  space.  Before  the  active 
efforts  of  man  the  materials  of  nature  are  wholly  passive.  The  condition 
which  they  have  naturally  assumed  is  the  statical  one.  The  free  forces  of 
nature  have  already  played  upon  them  in  antecedent  dynamic  states  until  they 
have  at  last  been  reduced  to  their  present  state.  This  is  the  one  in  which 
they  are  capable  of  producing  the  least  effects  upon  surrounding  objects. 
While  their  matter  has  been  integrated  their  motion  has  been  dissipated, 
until  the  matter  and  force  of  the  universe  —  at  least,  of  the  part  of  it  which 
man  occupies  —  have,  as  it  were,  become  separated  or  divorced,  and  exist 
and  manifest  themselves  independently — -such  is  the  apparent,  and,  so  far 
as  human  action  is  concerned,  the  practical  condition. 

Now,  it  would  be  reasonable  to  suppose  that,  since  natural  objects  have 
been  constantly  borne  down  until  they  have  been  brought  to  assume  the 
greatest  degree  of  stability  of  which  they  are  capable  in  the  existing  condi- 
tion of  the  universe,  any  attempt  to  disturb  that  condition  would  remove 
them  more  or  less  from  that  stable  state  and  render  them  less  inert  and  less 
indifferent  to  the  influences  of  the  free  forces  .still  playing  upon  them.  Such 
is,  in  fact,  the  case,  and  it  is  an  indisputable  trutli  that  the  great  results 
achieved  by  man  in  operating  upon  the  material  objects  of  the  earth  have 
consisted  in  removing  these  objects  from  the  still  folds  of  material  death 
in  which  he  has  found  them,  and  so  placing  them  tliat  the  surrounding 
influences  which  had  consigned  diem  to  this  state  can  again  set  up  changes 
in  them  and,  as  it  were,  reanimate  them.  In  scientific  phrase,  it  is  by  the 
transfer  of  material  objects  from  the  statical  to  the  dynamical  state,  from  a 
condition  of  molar  equilibrium  to  one  of  molar  activity,  that  human  civiliza- 
tion has  been  enabled  to  originate  and  to  advance.  —  Dyuai/iic  Sociology,  II, 
379-380. 


Social  Action.  97 

The  history  of  man,  if  it  should  ever  be  written,  would  be 
an  account  of  what  man  has  done.  The  numerous  changes 
that  have  been  made  in  the  position  of  certain  imaginary  lines 
on  the  earth's  surface,  called  political  boundaries,  and  the  events 
that  have  given  rise  to  such  changes,  would  be  recorded,  but 
instead  of  making  the  bulk  of  human  annals  as  they  now  do, 
they  would  occupy  a  very  subordinate  place.  Such  changes 
and  their  conditioning  events  are  temporary,  superficial,  and 
unimportant.  They  leave  no  lasting  impress  and  are  soon 
swept  by  time  completely  from  the  real  record  of  man's  achieve- 
ments. The  major  part  of  a  true  history  of  man  would  be 
devoted  to  the  reproduction  of  this  real  record.  Although  it  is 
written  on  the  face  of  nature  by  the  events  themselves,  very 
much  as  the  cosmical  history  of  the  earth  is  written  in  the 
rocks,  still  the  history  of  man  needs  to  be  studied  from  these 
natural  records,  interpreted  by  the  facts  there  observed,  and 
described  in  writing  and  by  graphic  representation  as  much  as 
the  history  of  the  earth  needs  to  be  thus  treated  by  the  geolo- 
gist. Human  phenomena,  or,  as  they  are  popularly  called, 
social  phenomena,  differ  in  these  respects  from  geological  and 
•other  phenomena  only  in  the  nature  of  the  forces  which  pro- 
duce them.  In  these  it  is  the  psychic  forces,  as  described  in 
the  last  chapter.  Man  is  the  instrument  through  which  these 
forces  operate,  and  the  immediate  cause  of  the  phenomena  is 
human  action.  As  man  has  been  a  social  being  during  the 
greater  part  of  his  history,  and  as  the  principal  results  of  his 
activities  have  been  brought  about  by  some  form  of  social 
cooperation,  it  is  customary  and  jDroper  to  designate  such  action 
as  social  action.  The  laws  and  principles  of  such  action  belong 
to  social  science,  or  sociology,  and  it  thus  becomes  clear  that 
sociology  rests  directly  upon  psychology,  and  especially  upon 
subjective  psychology. 

Subjective  psychology  is  a  philosophy  of  action.  Looked  at 
retrospectively  and  from  the  standpoint  of  natural  history  it  is 
seen  that  all  the  changes  that  have  taken  place  either  in  the 


qS  Subjective  Factors. 

organism  or  the  environment  have  been  due  to  the  action  of 
the  former  under  the  influence  of  the  psychic  or  vital  forces, 
and  that  from  the  time  that  conscious  desires  began  to  deter- 
mine action  great  transformations  have  taken  place  and  are 
still  going  on.  Not  dwelling  on  the  subhuman  stage,  it  is 
obvious  that  man  is  the  being  that  has  most  notably  displayed 
this  transforming  power.  An  animal  of  rather  inferior  physical 
strength,  endowed  with  few  natural  weapons  of  either  offence 
or  defence,  lacking  the  powers  of  nocturnal  vision,  keen  scent, 
fleetness  in  pursuit  or  escape,  flight,  or  special  skill  in  swim- 
ming, by  which  to  aid  him  in  migration,  he  has  nevertheless 
almost  completely  changed  the  appearance  and  character  of 
everything  above  ground  over  half  the  land  surface  of  the 
earth  and  established  himself  supreme  over  all  else  in  all  the 
habitable  parts  of  the  globe.  All  this  is  commonly  and  prop- 
erly attributed  to  mind,  and  it  will  be  shown  in  Part  II.  in 
what  special  ways  mind  has  produced  these  results.  But  the 
present  point  of  view  is  that  of  insisting  that  the  motive  power 
of  mind  has  been  his  multiplied  and  ever-increasing  wants,  to 
supply  which  perpetual  effort  has  been  put  forth  and  ceaseless 
activity  has  taken  place.  This  purposeful  activity  is  the  middle 
term  of  the  threefold  psychologic  succession,  mediating  be- 
tween desire  and  feeling  and  the  necessary  condition  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  former  in  attaining  the  latter.  Here  more 
than  anywhere  else  pleasure  or  happiness  has  been  made  an 
end,  though  only  intended  by  nature  as  a  means.  But  neither 
did  the  transformations  wrought  by  man's  activity  constitute  in 
any  sense  the  purpose  of  that  activity.  The  sum  total  of  these 
transformations  constitute  what  is  meant  by  material  civiliza- 
tion, but  man  never  m^de  civilization  an  end  of  his  efforts.  In 
so  far  as  this  has  been  a  gain  the  sole  beneficiary  of  that  gain 
has  been  society,  as  shown  in  Chap.  XIII. 

There  are  those  who  maintain  that  civilization  can  only  be 
achieved  through  the  action  of  the  individual,  unconscious  of 
the   end,    doing    that  which   will   conduce   to    the   end.      The 


Social  Action.  99 

present  state  of  progress  is  adduced  as  proof  that  this 
is  the  necessary  result.  But  while  it  is  admitted  that  this 
has  resulted  in  some  parts  of  the  world  and  in  past  history, 
it  must  be  denied  that  the  effect  has  been  beneficial  in 
all  parts  of  the  world  or  wholly  so  in  any  part,  and  also 
that  any  guaranty  exists  that  it  will  continue  indefinitely 
to  be  so,  even  where  the  actual  benefits  have  been  great- 
est. It  can  also  be  legitimately  argued  that  much  greater 
benefits  might  be  secured  if  society  were  the  conscious 
agent  and  had  its  improvement  for  its  clearly  per- 
ceived end.  But  this  is  an  anticipation.  This  much  needs 
however  to  be  said,  that  in  predicating  action  as  the  object  of 
society  the  time  has  not  yet  come  when  it  can  be  said  to  be 
conscious  of  its  end.  Society  has  not  yet  begun  to  seek  its 
end.  It  has  not  reached  the  stage  of  psychic  development 
attained  by  the  Cretaceous  insect,  the  Eocene  bird,  the  Mio- 
cene mammal,  or  the  Quaternary  man,  when  conscious  desire 
began  to  inspire  activity  in  securing  its  satisfaction.  The  soul 
of  society  is  not  yet  born.  Yet  none  the  less  is  society  the 
beneficiary  of  the  direct  results  of  human  action  in  so  far  as 
they  are  beneficial,  albeit  that  action  is  directed  solely  toward 
the  attainment  of  the  object  of  the  individual  man,  viz., 
happiness. 

It  is  the  essence  of  the  doctrine  of  individualism  that  what 
is  good  for  the  individual  must  be  good  for  society.  This  is 
based  on  the  admitted  fact  that  society  exists  only  for  the 
individual.  Society  is  only  an  idea  —  a  Platonic  idea,  like 
species,  genus,  order,  etc.,  in  natural  history.  The  only  real 
thing  is  the  individual.  And  it  is  argued  :  Why  strive  to 
benefit  that  which  has  no  feeling  and  therefore  is  incapable  of 
being  benefited  }  The  argument  is  plausible.  Only  it  proceeds 
from  a  misconception  of  what  social  reformers  really  mean 
when  they  talk  of  improving  society.  There  are  none  so  simple 
as  literally  to  personify  society  and  conceive  it  endowed  with 
wants  and  passions.     By  the  improvement  of  society  they  only 


lOO  Subjective  Factors. 

mean  such  modifications  in  its  constitution  and  structure  as 
will  in  their  opinion  result  in  ameliorating  the  condition  of  its 
individual  members.  Therefore  there  is  nothing  illogical  in 
their  claim,  and  to  answer  them  it  must  be  shown  in  each  case 
that  the  particular  supposed  reform  that  they  are  advocating 
will  not  as  a  matter  of  fact  result  in  the  alleged  amelioration  of 
the  individual  members  of  society.  Arguments  of  this  class  are 
legitimate. 

It  would  also  be  legitimate  to  argue  that  no  possible  altera- 
tion in  the  existing  status  of  society  can  produce  beneficial 
effects  as  thus  defined,  but  I  am  not  aware  that  anyone  has 
ever  taken  that  position.  It  is  too  obvious  on  the  most  super- 
ficial \-iew  that  the  evils  that  indi\-iduals  suffer  are  often  due 
to  the  constitution  of  society  which  entails  them.  This  results 
from  the  constant  changes  that  are  going  on  in  every  direction 
through  the  activities  of  individuals  seeking  their  ends,  and 
from  time  to  time  causing  the  needs  of  the  mass  to  outgrow 
the  restrictions  which  society  under  very  different  previous 
circumstances  was  obliged  to  impose.  So  that  if  a  state  of 
perfect  adaptation  of  the  individual  to  society  could  be  at  any 
given  moment  conceived  to  exist  it  would  not  remain  so  very 
long,  and  new  internal  transformations  would  soon  again  throw 
the  individual  units  out  of  harmony  with  the  social  aggregate. 
It  is  this  inertia  of  society  and  its  inability  to  keep  pace  with 
the  growth  of  the  living  mass  within  it  that  gives  rise  to  social 
reformers  who  are  legitimate  and  necessary,  nay,  natural  pro- 
ducts of  every  country  and  age,  and  the  ignoring  of  this  fact 
by  conservative  writers  who  lay  so  great  stress  on  the  word 
natural,  is  one  of  the  amusing  absurdities  of  the  present  period.^ 

1  '■'■  Laisscz  faire  is  'translated'  into  'blunt  English'  as  meaning  'mind  your 
own  business,'  and  this  injunction  he  drives  home  to  almost  every  one  who  has 
ever  done  anything  except  to  write  about  'what  social  classes  owe  to  each  other'; 
the  salutary  reservation  of  Sir  Joseph  I'orter,  'except  me',  seeming  to  be  con- 
stantly .kept  in  mind.  .  .  . 

"  Again  in  his  severe  condemnation  of  the  'friends  of  humanity',  as  hesneeringly 
calls  all  who  believe  in  the  attainment  through  human  effort  of  a  higher  social 


Social  Action.  [Oi 

So  long,  therefore,  as  society  remains  the  unconscious  pro- 
duct of  the  individual  demands  of  each  age,  so  long  will  the 
organized  social  state  continue  to  be  found  out  of  accord  with 
and  lagging  behind  the  real  spirit  of  the  age,  often  so  intolerably 
so  as  to  require  more  or  less  violent  convulsions  and  social 
revolutions.  But  if  ever  an  ideal  social  organization  shall  come 
to  be  a  clearly  defined  conscious  individual  want,  it  will  be 
possible  to  establish  one  that  will  have  elements  of  flexibility 
sufficient  to  render  it  more  or  less  permanent.  But  here,  as 
everywhere  else  under  the  dominion  of  the  psychic  forces,  the 
end  of  the  individual  or  object  of  man,  happiness,  or  some 
improvement  in  his  personal  condition,  must  be  put  vividly 
before  him  as  the  loadstone  of  desire  and  motive  to  action. 

state,  he  seems  to  forget  that  these  very  troublesome  persons  are  merely  products 
of  society  and  7iatiiml.  To  hear  him,  remembering  his  premises,  one  would  sup- 
pose that  these  men  either  had  invaded  the  world  from  some  outer  planet  or  had 
artificially  created  themselves.  But  they  belong  to  society  as  much  as  the  hated 
paupers  and  worthless  invalids  whom  he  would  turn  over  to  nature.  Why  then 
not  let  them  alone  ?  Why  meddle  with  the  natural  course  of  things  ?  In  fact 
what  is  the  7'aison  d'etre  of  this  earnest  book  that  wants  to  have  so  much  done? 
On  his  own  theory,  the  author  should  let  his  deluded  victims  alone,  should  laisser 
/aire  —  we  omit  the  '  translation.' "  —  Review  of  Prof.  W.  G.  Summer's  book, 
entitled  :  What  Social  Classes  Owe  to  Each  Other.  Man,  Vol.  IV  ;  New  Vork, 
March  i,  1SS4. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

SOCIAL    FRICTION. 

Ethical  principles  are  a  growth  of  the  social  system.  The  members  of 
society  are  literally  bound  by  them,  not  by  an  ideal  bond,  but  by  positive 
constraint.  The  prevailing  idea  is,  that  any  one  might  conduct  himself  im- 
morally if  he  preferred,  and  that  ^nrt  principle  is  all  that  prevents  the  ma- 
jority of  mankind  from  doing  so.  Such  ideas  legitimately  follow  from  the 
free-will  doctrine  and  other  kindred  errors  that  pervade  the  moral  teaching 
which  we  all  receive.  The  truth  is,  that  men  are  compelled  to  conduct 
themselves  according  to  the  established  standards  of  propriety.  This  is 
the  condition  upon  which  society  has  been  enabled  to  develop.  The  few 
who  attempt  to  break  over  these  restrictions  quickly  come  to  grief.  They 
drop  into  the  criminal  classes,  and  find  their  way  into  the  penitentiaries  ;  or 
they  are  stamped  as  monomaniacs,  fanatics,  "cranks,"  and  rigidly  guarded. 
They  are  driven  from  the  centers  of  culture,  and  find  for  brief  periods  the 
means  of  continuing  their  licentious  course  on  the  expanding  borders  of 
civilization.  Here  they  are  known  as  "roughs"  and  "  desperadoes,"  and 
flourish  until  compelled  to  succumb  to  the  summary  justice  of  "vigilance 
committees,"  which  are  merely  the  rude  guardians  of  moral  law  in  such 
communities.  For  there  is  really  no  hard-and-fast  line  which  can  be  drawn 
between  criminality  and  the  less  heinous  forms  of  immorality.  But  even 
the  least  deviation  from  the  path  of  rectitude  is,  in  developed  social  centers, 
a  signal  for  ostracism,  the  withdrawal  of  esteem,  systematic  avoidance,  and 
all  the  other  forms  of  punishment  which  render  life  intolerable,  and  demon- 
strate the  completely  compulsory  character  of  the  ethical  code.  It  is  a  code 
which  enforces  itself,  and  therefore  requires  no  priesthood  and  no  manual. 
And  strangely  enough,  here,  where  alone  laisscz  faire  is  sound  doctrine,  we 
find  the  laisses  faire  school  calling  loudly  for  "regulation." — Dynamic 
Sociology,  II,  3 7 2-3 73- 

The  great  object  of  action  is  to  do  something.  Conduct  only  aims  to 
avoid  doing — either  to  avoid  interfering  with  the  "pursuits  of  ends"  by 
others,  or  to  prevent  others  from  pursuing  such  ends,  or  to  do  some  benefit 
for  another,  whereby  he  is  prevented  from  doing  the  necessary  acts  for  ren- 
dering an  equivalent,  or  to  do  him  an  injury  whereby  he  is  prevented,  to 
that  extent,  from  pursuing  his  natural  ends.  It  is  all  through  a  negative 
proceeding,  interfering  at  every  point  with  the  normal  course  of  action. 
Conduct  is  a  gtiidance  of  acts  so  as  to  prevent  or  to  occasion  conflicts  in 
normal  actions.  —  Dyna/nic  Sociology,  II,  2)7^-})77- 


Social  Friction.  103 

Moral  conduct,  instead  of  being,  as  usually  represented,  conduct  in  a  right 
line,  is  in  reality  conduct  in  a  very  irregular  line.  The  path  of  rectitude  is 
a  crooked  path,  and  the  distance  lost  in  following  it  counts  heavily  against 
the  progress  of  the  world,  yet  less  heavily  than  would  the  jars  and  collisions 
which  a  failure  to  follow  it  would  inevitably  produce. 

The  remarkable  fact  to  be  noted  is,  that  it  is  this  class  of  human  action, 
aiming  simply  to  avoid  such  conflicts  of  interest,  insignificant  as  it  is  in 
comparison  with  the  main  current  of  human  action,  that  has  been  the  sub- 
ject of  all  the  ethical  teaching  and  ethical  writing  which  have  flooded  the 
world  from  the  earliest  historic  periods.  —  Dynamic  Sociology^  II,  377-378. 

From  the  sociological  point  of  view,  then,  Ethics  becomes  nothing  else 
than  a  definite  account  of  the  forms  of  conduct  that  are  fitted  to  the  associ- 
ated state,  in  such  wise  that  the  lives  of  each  and  all  may  be  the  greatest 
possible,  alike  in  length  and  breadth.  —  Herbert  Spexcer  :  Data  of 
Ethics,  p.  133. 

Our  vices  thus  are  virtues  in  disguise. 
Wicked  but  by  degrees,  or  by  surprise. 

Pope  :  Essay  oh  Man,  Epistle  II. 

Thus  spite  of  all  the  Frenchman's  witty  lies 
Most  vices  are  but  virtues  in  disguise. 

Pope  :  Ibid,  (another  version  of  the  above). 

If  any  one  were  to  write  a  book  professing  by  its  title  to  set 
forth  the  value  of  machinery  and  its  usefulness  to  civilization, 
and  were  to  confine  himself  exclusively  to  the  subject  of  fric- 
tion, pointing  out  in  great  detail  the  importance  of  reducing  it 
to  the  minimum,  describing  the  most  effective  kinds  of  journals, 
gudgeons,  and  bearings  for  this  purpose,  and  treating  ex- 
haustively the  subject  of  lubricating  oils,  the  case  would  be 
closely  analogous  to  that  which  exists  with  respect  to  the  treat- 
ment by  all  writers  of  human  or  social  action.  Unquestionably 
the  most  important  subject  that  can  engage  the  attention  of 
the  human  mind,  its  laws,  principles  and  methods,  as  well  as  its 
substantial  results  have  been  ignored  and  volumes  by  thousands 
have  been  written  on  the  mere  friction  which  it  engenders,  its 
interferences  and  conflicts  and  how  they  may  be  lessened. 
This  insignificant  field  of  investigation  has  been  dignified  by 


I04  Subjective  Factors, 

the  high-sounding  name  of  ethics,  or  sometimes  even  by  the 
more  grandiloquent  one  of  "moral  science."  These  voluminous 
reports  of  the  Circumlocution  Office  upon  "  the  art  of  perceiv- 
ing how  not  to  do  it  "  are  of  a  piece  with  the  traditional  school- 
boy's composition  on  pins  setting  forth  their  usefulness  in 
saving  men's  lives  by  their  not  swallowing  them. 

That  unthinking  persons,  theological  writers,  and  authors  of 
sentimental  homilies  should  extol  morals  and  regard  it  as  the 
chief  end  of  life  is  not  perhaps  to  be  wondered  at;  but  that 
philosoi^hers  of  breadth  and  penetration  should  have  so  uniform- 
ly failed  to  assign  it  its  proper  and  natural  place  in  their  sys- 
tems, will  always  remain  one  of  the  curiosities  of  the  human 
mmd.  It  would  at  least  be  supposed  that  where  one  of  these 
latter  was  also  a  professed  teacher  of  social  science,  and  as 
such  to  have  been  forced  to  make  the  most  careful  study  and 
analysis  of  all  the  different  kinds  of  social  action,  he  could  not 
help  seeing  the  subordinate  rank  and  incidental  character  of 
those  negative  phenomena  which  alone  belong  to  ethics.  It  is 
all  the  more  surprising,  therefore,  to  find  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer 
making  this  subject  to  form  the  cap-sheaf  and  crown  of  his 
great  system  of  synthetic  philosophy,  and  speaking  of  that  part 
of  his  system  as  the  one  to  which  he  regards  "all  the  preceding 
parts  as  subsidiary." 

While  sociology  deals  with  all  human  actions  and,  therefore, 
includes  ethics,  the  latter  deals  only  with  the  limited  class  of 
actions  which  are  properly  included  under  the  word  conduct, 
and  wliich,  as  said  above,  constitute  the  conflicts  that  occur  in 
normal  action.  They  are  not  only  unimportant  from  their 
limited  scope,  but  from  their  essentially  negative  character. 
Their  tendency,  as  in  mechanical  friction,  is  to  impede,  and  to 
their  lull  extent,  to  prevent  the  regular  operations  of  society. 
They  are  therefore  wholly  non-progressive.  Any  one  who  from 
moral  considerations  acts  in  any  respect  differently  from  what 
the  psychic  forces  within  him  normally  impel  him  to  act,  to  that 
extent  lessens  the  effect  of  his  action.      Of  course  this  is  far 


Social  Friction.  105 

from  saying  that  it  is  not  very  frequently  necessary  and  in  all 
respects  best  to  do  this,  it  is  merely  to  insist  that  there  is 
nothing  so  wonderful  and  exalted  about  moral  acts  as  is  com- 
monly supposed,  when  viewed  from  the  broadest  philosophical 
standpoint.  If  one  sees  the  question  only  from  the  standpoint 
of  social  progress,  which  consists  in  producing  the  maximum 
permanent  improvements  in  man's  material  surroundings,  all 
hindrances  to  this  consummation  are  bad,  and  those  acts  which 
are  morally  good  are  in  most  instances  socially  bad. 

It  may  be  admitted  that  the  subject  of  interferences  among 
human  actions  and  of  their  avoidance  is  a  complex  and  diffi- 
cult one,  nevertheless  it  has  been  so  long  and  exhaustively 
studied  that  it  seems  impossible  to  add  anything  of  value.  All 
the  great  moral  precepts  are  as  old  as  human  records.  The 
"golden  rule  "  of  Christ  was  laid  down  independently  by  Hillel 
and  Confucius  and  never  practised  by  any  one.  Among  the 
best  maxims  are  those  of  the  Brahmins,  while  Antoninus  and 
the  Stoics  have  furnished  as  pure  and  lofty  conceptions  of 
duty  as  any  modern  moral  science  writer  could  wish.  Mr. 
Spencer  laid  claim  to  finding  a  "scientific  basis"  for  ethics. 
One  volume  of  his  Principles  of  Ethics  is  now  out  and  I  am 
unable  to  see  that  he  has  sustained  that  claim  if  by  "  scientific 
basis  "  he  means  anything  else  than  the  old  basis.  What  he 
says  that  is  new  is  no  part  of  ethics.  The  doctrine  that 
pleasure  is  the  good  and  pain  the  bad,  and  that  happiness  is  the 
end  of  action,  while  "  scientific  "  is  not  ethical.  It  is  a  corol- 
lary dimly  seen  by  Spinoza  and  others,  growing  out  of  the 
principle  set  forth  in  Chap.  VII,  which  is  a  principle  of 
psychology,  or,  one  may  say,  of  biology.  And  as  to  his 
"Justice  "  the  subject  does  not  belong  to  ethics,  but  to  juris- 
prudence. As  treated  by  him  it  is  a  partisan  defence  of  ex- 
treme individualism,  amounting  to  practical  anarchism. 

However  important  moral  conduct  may  be  in  itself,  and 
there  is  no  difference  of  opinion  on  this  point,  there  are  many 
reasons,  in  its  overdone   condition  already  referred  to,  why  it 


io6  Subjective  Factors. 

should  not  be  made  to  absorb  so  large  a  share  of  the  attention 
of  thinking  persons.  The  moral  precepts  observed  at  any 
time  and  in  any  country  are  the  effect  and  not  the  cause  of  the 
moral  condition  of  those  who  observe  them.  If  there  is  any 
mutual  interaction  between  ethical  teaching  and  moral  conduct 
by  which  each  influences  the  other  and  tends  to  cause  the  ad- 
vance of  both  it  is  very  slight.  Certain  it  is  that  the  former 
can  be  and  frequently  is  pushed  so  far  that  the  moral  sense  is 
more  or  less  blunted  and  deadened  by  the  iteration  of  moral 
injunctions.  It  would  probably  be  better  for  personal  morality 
if  ethics  were  only  taught  historically  and  philosophically. 

Another  serious  evil  results  from  the  erroneous  belief  that 
moral  character  can  be  improved  by  ethical  teaching.  Many 
persons,  and  especially  teachers,  habitually  labor  under  such  a 
load  of  responsibility  for  the  moral  character  of  those  who  come 
within  the  circle  of  their  influence  that  they  become  paralyzed 
for  usefulness  in  life.  No  one  dares  to  say  what  he  thinks. 
All  originality  is  screened  out  of  whatever  is  produced.  Teach- 
ing, that  noblest  of  all  vocations,  degenerates  into  pedantry. 
This  has  now  reached  such  a  stage  that  the  utterances  of  pro- 
fessors in  colleges  have  assumed  a  stereotyped  form  and  the 
sagacious  student  knows  in  advance  what  is  going  to  be  said. 
Or,  if  any  one  of  these  should  chance  to  say  anything  original, 
he  feels  obliged  immediately  to  recant  it,  or  to  add  a  saving 
clause  to  the  effect  that  he  meant  something  else.  And  it  is 
getting  to  be  the  practice  in  set  papers,  orations,  and  scholastic 
addresses  in  which  the  mind  has  been  allowed  some  freedom  to 
expand,  to  close  with  a  "protest,"  as  the  Catholic  writers  call 
it,  namely  a  disclaimer  of  everything  that  could  be  construed 
to  be  injurious  to  morals.  Frequently,  after  stating  an  im- 
portant scientific  truth,  it  is  deemed  necessary  to  explain  to  the 
reader,  as  the  judge  does  to  the  jury,  how  much  of  it  it  will  do 
to  believe  and  what  conclusions  it  will  not  do  to  draw  from  it. 
University  lectures  become  infected  with  this  true  moral  cow- 
ardice, until    the    lecture-room    style    can    be    recognized    and 


Social  Friction,  107 

readily  distinguished  from  the  independent  exposition  of  the 
original  investigator.  The  same  difference  is  seen  in  the  books 
produced  by  the  two  classes,  in  the  cringing  fear  that  animates 
the  one,  contrasted  with  the  manly  courage  characterizing  the 
other. 

Along  with  the  dwarfing  effect  of  this  state  of  things,  there 
goes  the  further  demoralizing  influence  of  egotism  and  conceit. 
For  the  idea  of  continually  guarding  the  character  of  others 
begets  an  inordinate  conception  of  personal  importance,  and 
this  is  always  seen  grotesquely  mixing  itself  with  pretended 
humility.  A  form  of  this  sometimes  takes  possession  even  of 
truly  great  minds,  and  unless  checked  by  wholesome  influences 
from  without  they  are  apt  to  merge  into  a  state  in  which  they 
vastly  overestimate  the  effect  their  labors  are  to  produce.  It 
was  so  with  Auguste  Comte,  after  long  practising  his  "  hygiene 
cerebraW  of  reading  nothing  and  conversing  with  no  one,  but 
evolving  his  system  out  of  his  inner  consciousness,  until  he 
fancied  himself  the  high  priest  of  a  new  dispensation  and  even 
fixed  the  time  for  its  universal  acceptance.  And  do  we  not  see 
some  trace  of  this  enlarged  personality  in  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer 
when,  in  the  preface  to  his  Data  of  P^thics,  he  explains  his  haste 
to  lay  before  the  world  his  ethical  system  before  any  serious 
evils  should  result  from  its  delay  }  For  it  is  in  this  connection 
that  he  says  :  "  Few  things  can  happen  more  disastrous  than 
the  decay  and  death  of  a  regulative  system  no  longer  fit,  before 
another  and  fitter  regulative  system  has  grown  up  to  replace  it." 
Under  such  a  weight  of  responsibility  he  ought  at  least  to  be 
consoled  by  the  view  expressed  in  this  chapter  and  to  congrat- 
ulate himself  that  the  morals  of  the  world  may  still  be  safe 
even  if  he  should  not  live  to  complete  his  Principles  of  Ethics. 

To  all  this  may  now  be  added  the  further  law  that  the  moral 
state  is  a  product  of  social  evolution  and  a  condition  to  the  ex- 
istence of  society.  The  moral  code  only  differs  from  the  legal 
code  in  taking  cognizance  of  cases  that  society  will  adjudicate 
without  the  aid  of  the  courts.     Society  will  not  tolerate  an  in- 


loS  Subjective  Factors. 

corrigibly  immoral  member.  To  be  in  society  at  all  and  out  of 
jail  he  must  practice  the  moral  virtues  of  his  age  and  coun- 
try. Great  latitude  there  no  doubt  is  in  these  matters,  but  his 
treatment  by  his  fellow  men  will  depend  upon  the  degree  to 
which  he  conforms  to  popular  conceptions  of  right,  and  though 
he  may  keep  within  legal  rules,  if  he  persists  in  violating  moral 
rules  he  will  be  ostracized  and  deprived  of  the  means  of  gain- 
ing a  livelihood,  and  ultimately  made  to  perish  and  make  room 
for  those  who  will  conform.  Therefore  there  is  no  need  to 
preach  morality.  It  is  self-regulating.  Society  literally  com- 
pels its  members  to  observe  its  moral  laws. 

To  the  statement  that  ethics  merely  represents  the  social 
friction  it  may  be  objected  that  this  is  to  take  too  narrow  a 
view  of  the  subject,  that  there  are  departments  of  ethics  that 
are  not  covered  by  this  definition.  I  have  tried  to  discover 
such  and  thus  far  failed,  although  there  are  some  cases  in  which 
this  is  apparently  true.  It  may  be  said  that  ethics  need  not 
necessarily  relate  to  others,  but  may  relate  wholly  to  self.  One 
may  do  an  immoral  act  to  himself  wholly  irrespective  of  any- 
other  individual.  For  example  he  may  be  intemperate  and 
thus  abuse  his  own  nature.  To  this  it  may  be  replied  that  if 
he  were  alone  in  some  vast  wilderness  and  his  act  were  unknown 
to  any  other  human  being  this  would  be  a  case  in  point.  But 
it  is  merely  a  hypothetical  case  which  could  practically  never 
occur,  and  if  it  should  occur  it  woukl  have  no  importance, 
because  such  a  life  would  be  socially  useless.  But  the  moment 
he  is  brought  into  society  his  immoral  practises  begin  to  react 
on  others  and  in  various  ways  to  increase  the  friction  of  the 
social  machinery. 

It  is  also  true  that  this  view  relates  primarily  to  normal  or 
egoistic  conduct  and  only  secondarily  to  supra-normal  or  altru- 
istic, better  named  supererogatory  conduct.  At  least  benefi- 
cence, benevolence,  philanthropy,  charity,  etc.,  do  not  directly 
result  from  conflicts  in  normal  action.  But  we  have  only  to 
analyze  the  motives  to  these  to  perceive  that  they  are  at  least 


Social  Friction.  109 

the  indirect  consequences  of  such  conflicts.  Taking  charitable 
acts  as  the  generic  type  of  the  whole  supererogatory  class,  it 
is  obvious  that  they  presuppose  the  prior  existence  in  society 
of  serious  obstructions  to  the  normal  course  of  action.  They 
exist  only  because  there  is  a  class  in  society  who  are  in  some 
way  more  or  less  deprived  of  the  means  of  subsistence.  How 
came  such  a  class  to  exist .''  Clearly  through  some  form  of 
interference  with  their  normal  actions.  There  is  an  abundance 
of  food.  The  benevolent  class  possess  a  large  enough  surplus 
to  sustain  the  indigent  class,  and  they  are  but  a  handful  com- 
i:)ared  with  the  non-benevolent  class  who  possess  a  surplus. 
Those  who  have  nothing,  were  they  free  to  act,  would  proceed 
to  supply  themselves  with  the  surplus.  Something  prevents 
them  from  doing  so.  It  is  not  to  the  purpose  to  inquire  here 
what  the  nature  of  these  barriers  is,  it  is  only  necessary  to 
point  out  that  they  exist.  But  this  is  only  to  say  that  action 
has  been  interfered  with,  arrested,  clogged,  choked,  and  hence 
objects  of  charity  exist  in  society.  An  act  of  charity  is,  there- 
fore, from  our  present  standpoint,  simply  a  mode,  usually  only  a 
temporary  one,  of  relieving  pressure  upon  this  class,  of  clearing 
away  the  obstructions  to  life,  in  a  word,  of  overcoming  the 
social  friction. 

The  above  is  independent  of  the  ethical  nature  of  this  kind 
of  social  friction  and  also  of  that  of  charitable  action  in  general. 
It  is  fashionable  now-a-days  to  animadvert  upon  all  charitable 
work  from  the  supposed  fundamental  and  scientific  standpoint 
that  it  interferes  with  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest  in 
society.  The  argument  proceeds  from  a  superficial  analogy 
between  animal  life  and  human  life,  and  is  neither  scientific 
nor  sound.  But  this  much  is  true  and  is  the  basis  of  the 
popular  error,  namely  that  under  the  law  of  parsimony,  i.  e., 
that  an  individual  will  always  seek  the  greatest  gain  for  the 
least  effort,  it  is  easy  to  create  a  pauper  class  by  injudicious 
charity.  This  class  then  becomes  in  society  the  strict  homo- 
logue  of  the  degenerate  parasite  so  well  known  in  almost  every 
department  of  biology. 


1 1  o  Subjective  Factors. 

There  is,  however,  a  really  fundamental  and  scientific  ob- 
jection to  charity,  but  this  I  have  never  seen  stated.  It  is  that 
charity  is  really  the  giving  by  the  benevolent  class,  not  to  the 
indigent  class,  but  to  the  non-benevolent  class.  To  illustrate 
this  let  us  take  the  case  of  waiters'  "tips"  and  porters'  fees. 
All  who  have  ever  given  the  subject  a  moment's  thought  know 
that  to  tip  a  waiter  or  fee  a  porter  is  simply  to  give  so  much 
money  to  a  hotel  keeper  or  a  railroad  company.  Its  effect  is  to 
encourage  these  to  continue  to  keep  down  the  wages  of  these 
employes  to  the  point  of  dependence  upon  the  public,  and  the 
more  generous  the  public  the  lower  will  be  the  wages.  If  all 
would  resolve  to  cease  tipping  and  feeing  altogether,  these 
employes  would  be  paid  regular  wages  like  other  employes. 
Charity  and  alms-giving  do  not  differ  in  principle  from  this 
giving  of  tips  and  fees.  It  is  true  that  in  the  latter  case  it  is 
definitely  known  from  whom  the  money  should  be  taken  as  an 
act  of  justice,  while  in  the  former  case  the  ones  who  should 
pay  it  are  a  large  ill-defined  class.  But  there  is  no  doubt  that 
the  ones  who  have  the  wealth  of  the  world  have  included  in  it 
the  share  of  those  who  have  none.  The  only  escape  from  this 
conclusion  is  to  say,  as  many  are  ready  to  do,  that  those  w4io 
have  nothing  have  no  right  to  exist  in  socict)'.  If  the  indigent 
class  were  coextensive  and  identical  with  the  criminal  class 
there  would  be  some  ground  for  this  position.  But  those  who 
assume  it  generally  argue  that  the  poor  are  more  moral  than 
the  rich,  and  it  is  probably  true  that  the  percentage  of  criminals 
from  the  wealthy  classes  is  greater  than  that  from  the  indigent 
classes.  The  only  argument  remaining  is  that  poverty  is  due 
to  idleness  and  profligacy.  Yet  if  the  percentage  of  idle  and 
profligate  rich  could  be  compared  with  that  of  the  idle  and 
profligate  poor,  it  would  make  a  far  worse  showing  for  the 
former  than  that  of  the  comparative  criminality  of  these  two 
classes.  The  conclusion  therefore  remains  unassailable  that 
the  means  of  subsistence  is  justly  due  to  the  indigent  class 
from  the  opulent  class,  and  no  amount  of  patchwork  on  the 


Social  Friction.  1 1 1 

part  of  a  few  benevolent  persons  can  ever  balance  this  great 
account  with  society.  Its  effect  is  to  increase  the  surplus  of 
the  non-benevolent  in  the  sums  contributed  by  the  benevolent. 

The  several  considerations  above  brought  forward  are  merely 
samples  of  the  short-sighted  and  superficial  character  of  nearly 
everything  that  is  said  or  done  with  relation  to  ethics.  This 
is  because  in  the  nature  of  things  there  cannot  be  any  logical 
and  fundamental  treatment  of  that  subject.  The  moment  logic 
and  scientific  principles  are  applied  the  problem  ceases  to  be 
an  ethical  one  and  becomes  a  sociological  one.  The  ethical 
and  sociological  standpoints  are  the  opposites  of  each  other. 
The  former  looks  to  the  curbing,  the  latter  to  the  freeing  of 
social  energy.  Any  philosophy  that  has  for  its  object  the 
hemming  and  cribbing  of  a  great  natural  force  can  have  no 
permanence.  As  well  try  to  dam  the  waters  of  a  river  and 
hope  for  final  success. 

This  thought  introduces  the  fundamental  truth  with  which 
this  treatment  of  social  friction  must  conclude.  It  is  that  the 
whole  subject  of  ethics  is  essentially  provisional  and  the  stage 
to  which  it  belongs  is  a  merely  transitional  stage.  There  are 
those  who  by  devoting  their  whole  lives  to  doing  good  conceive 
of  the  life  of  future  blessedness  as  one  in  which  there  shall  be 
no  other  occupation  but  that  of  doing  good.  They  forget  that 
they  have  been  taught  that  in  that  life  there  will  be  no  one  to 
need  their  ministrations.  Could  they  realize  such  a  state  it 
would  appear  a  wretched  one.  The  only  thing  they  enjoy  they 
would  be  deprived  of.  I  have  known  saintly  beings  of  this 
class  who  seemed  so  to  long  for  an  opportunity  to  do  good, 
that  they  could  not  conceal  a  secret  joy  at  the  occurrence  of  an 
unfortunate  accident  which  promised  to  furnish  such  an  op- 
portunity. Were  all  suffering  abolished  the  occupation  of  such 
persons  would  be  gone.  And  yet  Mr.  Spencer  and  other 
ethical  writers  do  but  reflect  a  wide-spread  popular  sentiment 
in  regarding  ethical  conduct  as  the  climax  of  human  achieve- 
ment and  ethics  as  the  goal  of  philosophy. 


1 1 2  Stibjective  Factors. 

The  idea  that  there  must  always  be  a  field  for  ethical  action 
is  only  a  part  of  the  more  general  idea  that  all  things  must 
always  be  what  they  now  are.  And  both  of  these  ideas  prevail 
in  the  face  of  the  fact  that  the  most  radical  changes  have  actu- 
ally many  times  taken  place  within  the  narrow  limits  of  human 
history.  "The  poor  always  ye  have  with  you"  is  supposed  to 
express  a  necessary  social  truth.  It  is  doubtless  as  true  now 
as  it  was  two  thousand  years  ago,  but  that  is  far  from  giving 
warrant  for  saying  that  it  will  continue  to  be  true  two  thousand 
years  hence.  There  are  many  who  think  that  it  will  have 
ceased  to  be  true  two  hundred  years  hence.  But  if  it  shall 
thus  cease  it  will  not  be  ethical  teaching  but  improved  social 
organization  that  will  have  produced  the  change.  And  so  one 
might  take  up  one  by  one  all  the  social  facts  that  make  ethical 
conduct  possible,  and  theoretically  conceive  of  their  elimination. 
It  will,  of  course,  be  said  that  such  an  idea  is  visionary  and 
Utopian.  Grant  this  and  it  still  remains  true  that  if  any  of  the 
existing  evils  can  be  removed  the  domain  of  ethics  is  to  that 
extent  circumscribed.  Deny  that  this  is  possible  and  the 
utility  of  all  ethical  work  is  given  over.  Admit  that  it  is 
possible  and  there  is  no  place  to  stop  short  of  a  reclamation  of 
the  whole  field. 

But  is  this  claim  wholly  Utopian  }  Has  there  been  no  moral 
progress.''  If  not  why  continue  to  inculcate  moral  principles  .-* 
As  a  matter  of  fact  there  has  been  great  moral  progress.  Let 
any  one  read  the  history  of  England,  even  the  meager  account 
of  its  kings  and  their  exploits  which  is  called  history,  and 
compare  the  acts  of  the  men  of  the  12th  to  the  i6th  centuries 
with  those  of  the  men  occupying  relatively  the  same  national 
and  social  j^ositions  to-day;  and  see  whether  there  has  been  any 
moral  progress.  Not  even  in  Russia  which  we  call  despotic 
is  there  anything  to  compare  with  the  immorality  that  openly 
stalked  abroad  three  hundred  years  ago  over  all  Europe.  The 
subject  need  not  be  enlarged  upon.  The  other  point  to  be 
noted  is  that  none  of  this  real  moral  progress  has  been   due  to 


Soa'a/  Friction.  1 1 3 

the  enforcement  and  inculcation  of  moral  precepts.  It  has 
been  wholly  due  to  the  march  of  events,  such  as  the  growth  of 
scientific  ideas,  the  spread  of  letters,  the  influence  of  commerce, 
the  establishment  of  universities,  the  invention  of  printing,  and 
the  introduction  of  machinery  and  manufactures  ;  in  general 
to  the  progress  of  intelligence,  laying  bare  the  enormity 
of  the  abuses  formerly  practised  and  creating  a  new  code 
of  morals  which  society  literally  enforces.  Men  could  not 
be  as  cruel  and  immoral  as  they  once  were  if  they  would.  The 
power  of  public  sentiment  crushes  every  display  of  it.  In 
other  words  as  already  stated,  the  modern  improved  morality 
is  a  condition  to  the  modern  improved  state  of  civilization  and 
the  latter  is  the  cause  of  the  former,  not  the  reverse  as  ethical 
expounders  teach. 

The  effect  of  social  friction  is  always  painful,  therefore  moral 
progress,  which  consists  in  reducing  this  friction,  is  restricted 
in  its  popular  acceptation  to  the  lessening  of  pain  i.e.,  to  the 
mitigation  of  suffering,  the  decrease  of  misery,  and  the  removal 
of  unhappiness  in  general.  In  short  it  is  negative  in  its  char- 
acter, and  such  it  really  is  in  the  main.  But  there  may  be 
a  positive  moral  progress  consisting  in  the  increase  of  pleasure, 
the  heightening  of  enjoyment,  and  the  broadening  and  deepening 
of  human  happiness.  Just  as  social  friction  is  painful  so  social 
action  is  pleasurable.  All  desire  is  for  the  exercise  of  some 
function,  and  the  objects  of  desire  are  such  only  by  virtue  of 
making  such  exercise  possible.  Happiness  therefore  can  only 
be  increased  by  increasing  either  the  number  or  the  intensity 
of  satisfiable  desires.  It  has  in  fact  been  greatly  increased  in 
both  these  ways.  Without  elaborating  this  principle  I  will 
simply  point  to  the  very  modern  date  of  two  of  the  highest 
sources  of  man's  present  enjoyment  in  civilized  countries,  the 
enjoyment  of  music  and  the  enjoyment  of  what  may  be  called 
beauty  in  the  amorphous  —  in  the  landscape,  the  cloud,  the 
sea,  the  rocks,  and  the  mountains.  No  faculty  for  appreciating 
either  of  these  sources  of  deliirht  seemed  to  exist  in  what  we 


1 14  Subjective  Factors. 

call  ancient  times,  and  it  is  practically  wanting  in  all  but 
modern  civilized  races.  At  least  it  cannot  be  sufficiently  de- 
veloped elsewhere  to  make  up  any  considerable  part  of  their 
enjoyment  of  life,  which  is  the  present  point  of  view.  Yet  its 
germs  doubtless  exist  in  all  races  and  have  existed  at  all  times, 
capable  of  development  through  civilization. 

The  highest  ideal  of  happiness,  therefore,  is  the  freest  exer- 
cise of  the  greatest  number  and  most  energetic  faculties.  This 
must  also  be  the  highest  ethical  ideal.  But  it  is  clear  that  its 
realization  would  abolish  moral  conduct  altogether  and  remove 
the  very  field  of  ethics  from  a  scheme  of  philosophy.  To  remove 
the  obstacles  to  free  social  activity  is  to  abolish  the  so-called 
science  of  ethics.  The  avowed  purpose  of  ethics  is  to  abolish 
itself.  The  highest  ethics  is  no  ethics.  Ideally  moral  conduct 
is  wholly  un-moral  conduct.  Or  more  correctly  stated,  the 
highest  ideal  of  a  moral  state  is  one  in  which  there  will  exist 
nothing  that  can  be  called  moral. 

Whether  we  look  at  the  subject  from  the  standpoint  of  social 
progress  or  from  that  of  individual  welfare  the  liberation  of 
social  energy  is  the  desideratum.  The  sociologist  demands  it 
because  it  increases  the  progressive  power  of  society.  The 
moralist  should  demand  it  because  it  increases  happiness.  For 
activity  means  both,  and  therefore  the  more  activity  the  better. 
True  morality  not  less  than  true  progress  consists  in  the  eman- 
cipation of  social  energy  and  the  free  exercise  of  power.  Evil 
is  merely  the  friction  which  is  to  be  overcome  or  at  least  mini- 
mized. This  cannot  be  done  by  exhortation.  It  must  be  done 
by  perfecting  the  social  mechanism.  The  tendencies  that  pro- 
duce evil  are  not  in  themselves  evil.  There  is  no  absolute  evil. 
None  of  the  propensities  which  now  cause  evil  are  essentially 
bad.  They  are  all  in  themselves  good,  must  necessarily  be  so, 
since  they  have  been  developed  for  the  sole  purpose  of  enabling 
man  to  exist,  survive,  and  progress.  All  evil  is  relative.  Any 
power  may  do  harm.  The  forces  of  nature  are  good  or  bad 
according  to  where  they  are   i^ermitted  to  expend  themselves. 


Social  Friction.  1 1 5 

The  wind  is  evil  when  it  dashes  the  vessel  on  the  rocks  ;  it  is 
good  when  it  fills  the  sail  and  speeds  it  on  its  way.  Fire  is  evil 
when  it  rages  through  a  great  city  and  destroys  life  and  prop- 
erty ;  it  is  good  when  it  warms  human  dwellings  or  creates  the 
wondrous  power  of  steam.  Electricity  is  evil  when  in  the 
thunderbolt  it  descends  from  the  cloud  and  scatters  death  and 
destruction  ;  it  is  good  when  it  transmits  messages  of  love  to 
distant  friends.  And  so  it  is  with  the  passions  of  men  as  they 
surge  through  society.  Left  to  themselves  like  the  physical 
elements  they  find  vent  in  all  manner  of  ways  and  constantly 
dash  against  the  interests  of  those  who  chance  to  be  in  their 
way.  But  like  the  elements  they  readily  yield  to  the  touch  of 
true  science,  which  directs  them  into  harmless,  nay,  useful 
channels,  and  makes  them  instruments  for  good.  In  fact  human 
desires,  as  defined  in  Chap.  IX,  seeking  their  satisfaction 
through  appropriate  activity,  constitute  the  only  good  from  the 
standpoint  of  sociology.     They  are  the  Social  Forces. 


CHAPTER     XVIII. 

THE    SOCIAL    FORCES. 

All  beings  which  can  be  said  to  perform  actions  do  so  in  obedience  to 
those  mental  states  which  are  denominated  desires.  .  .  .  Desire  is  the 
essential  basis  of  all  action,  and  hence  the  true  force  in  the  sentient  world  ; 
and  consistency  as  well  as  truth  requires  us  to  predicate  this  equally  of  man 
and  of  all  things  lower  in  the  scale  of  animal  life.  .  .  .  The  classification 
of  tlie  forces  operating  in  the  department  of  animated  nature  \vill  then  be 
equivalent  to,  and,  in  fact,  the  same  thing  as,  the  classification  of  animal 
desires  ;  and,  as  what  is  true  of  all  must  be  true  of  a  part,  this  will  likewise 
constitute  a  classification  of  the  social  forces.  —  Dynamic  Sociology^  I,  468. 

The  following  table  will  exhibit  at  a  glance  the  classification  of  the 
social  forces  as  already  sketched: 


o 


C     0 


Preservative    f  ^o^'^ive,  gustatory  (seeking  pleasure). 
(^Negative,  protective  (avoiding  pain). 


Forces. 


,'^  Uh    I    Tj  1      .•        f  Direct.      The  sexual  and  amative  desires. 

1^  Reproductive  J 

1^        roices.         (^Indirect.  Parental  and consangiuneal  affections. 


y^ilsthetic   Forces. 


g  <j  Emotional  (moral)  Forces. 
J5         [^Intellectual  Forces.  Dyiia)}iic  Sociology^  1,472. 

Only  when  it  is  .seen  that  the  process  is  in  all  cases  siniilarlv  determined 
by  forces,  and  is  not  scientifically  interpreted  until  it  is  expressed  in  terms 
of  those  forces  ;  —  only  then  is  there  reached  the  conception  of  Sociology 
as  a  science,  in  the  complete  meaning  of  the  word.  —  Herbert  Sfen'Cer  : 
Study  of  Sociology,  p.  329. 

No  psychologist  has  yet  devoted  him.self  to  make,  or  has  succeeded  in 
making,  a  complete  analysis  of  the  emotions,  by  resolving  the  complex 
feelings  into  their  simple  elements  and  tracing  them  back  from  their  complex 
evolutions  to  the  primitive  passions  in  which  they  are  rooted  ;  this  is  a 
promising  and  much-needed  work  which  remains  to  be  done  ;  but   wlien  it 


The  Social  Forces.  1 1 7 

is  done,  it  will  be  shown  probably  that  they  have  proceeded  originally  from 
two  fundamental  instincts,  or  —  if  we  add  consciousness  of  nature  and  aim 
—  passions,  namely,  that  of  self-preservation,  with  the  ways  and  means  of 
self-defense  which  it  inspires  and  stimulates,  and  that  of  propagation,  with 
the  love  of  offspring  and  other  primitive  feelings  connected  with  it. — 
Maudsley  :  Fortnightly  Review,  April  i,  1874,  Vol.  XXI  (New  Series, 
\'ol.  XV),  p.  470. 

Demgemiiss  fiillt  die  Sorge  fiir  die  Erhaltung  jenes  Daseyns,  unter  so 
schweren,  sich  jeden  Tag  von  Neuem  meldenden  P^orderungen,  in  der  Regel, 
das  ganze  Menschenleben  aus.  An  sie  kniipft  sich  sodann  unmittelbar 
die  zweite  Anforderung,  die  der  Fortpflanzung  des  Geschlechts.  Zugleich 
bedrohen  ihn  von  alien  Seiten  die  verschiedenartigsten  Gefahren,  denen  zu 
entgehen  es  bestandiger  Wachsamkeit  bedarf.  —  Schopenhauer:  //V// 
ii/s  U'illc,  I,  36S. 

While  all  wealth  is  not  originated  by  labor,  all  labor  originates  wealth. 
Man  toils,  not  because  labor  necessarily  preceeds  wealth,  but  because 
wealth  necessarily  follows  labor.  The  possession  of  want-satisfying  prod- 
ucts is  what  the  laborer  seeks,  and  desire  is  the  moving  force  in  the  whob 
process.  Labor  is  not  to  be  conceived  of  as  the  7'is  a  tergo  that  pushes 
wealtli  forward  ;  but  wealth  is  to  be  conceived  of  as  the  siren  that  lures 
labor  onward.  Wealth  is  always  the  cause  of  labor  ;  labor  is  not  always 
the  cause  of  wealth.  .  .  .  Nature  subjected  and  appropriated  is  wealth  ; 
man's  subjection  of  nature  is  labor.  —  J.  B.  Clark  :  PJiilosopJiy  of 
Wealth,  p.  25. 

In  view  of  the  thoroughness  with  which  the  subject  of  the 
social  forces  was  elaborated  in  Dynamic  Sociology,  it  is  of 
course  no  part  of  the  purpose  of  the  present  chapter  to  enter 
into  it  exhaustively.  As  stated  at  the  beginning  of  the  present 
work  the  social  forces  constitute  one  of  the  two  primary  doc- 
trines of  dynamic  sociology,  scarcely  perceived  by  any  other 
writer  and  as  yet  almost  completely  neglected  even  by  those 
who  are  favorably  disposed  toward  the  general  system  of  philos- 
ophy outlined  in  that  work.  I  am  far  from  anxious  about  the 
recognition  of  this  or  any  other  principle  merely  because  it  was 
practically  original  with  me,  and  should  be  glad  to  learn  that 
some  one  before  me  had  developed  it  even  more  fully  than  I 
have  done,   especially  if  that  would  lead  to  its  general   recogni- 


1 1 8  Subjective  Factors. 

tion,  because  I  regard  it  as  an  exceedingly  fertile  principle,  and 
one  which,  though,  like  most  great  truths,  it  may  seem  to  some, 
after  fully  comprehending  it,  to  be  little  more  than  a  truism, 
lies  at  the  foundation  of  social  science  and  without  which  there 
can  be  no  such  science.  To  the  objection  of  its  simplicity  it 
may  be  answered  that  nearly  all  important  truths  are  simple 
and  easy  to  understand,  Init  this  has  not  prevented  .most  of 
them  from  remaining  long  unpcrceived,  nor  has  it  rendered 
them  any  the  less  effective  agencies  in  revolutionizing  thought 
when  once  recognized  and  applied.  On  the  contrary  it  is  usu- 
ally this  quality  of  simplicity  and  reasonableness  that  has  made 
such  a  use  of  them  possible. 

I  am  not  therefore  disjDOsed  to  believe  that  the  failure  to 
recognize  and  apply  this  principle  to  the  great  problems  of 
society  and  economics  has  been  due  in  any  great  degree  to  the 
humble  source  from  which  it  was  put  forth,  or  to  the  fact  that 
its  announcement  was  not  made  ex  cathedra,  and  I  prefer  to 
attribute  it  to  causes  more  worthy  of  the  able  and  earnest  class 
of  workers  in  these  fields.  Much  of  it  is  doubtless  due  to  the 
fact  that  the  large  work  in  which  it  was  incorporated  was 
necessarily  addressed  to  a  small  class  of  readers,  is  a  heavy  tax 
upon  the  busy  brain  of  active  investigators,  contains  much  else 
to  divert  the  attention,  and  has  not  made  its  way  into  the 
curriculum  of  colleges  or  lists  of  indispensable  reading  matter 
of  most  writers  and  teachers.^ 

It  has  also  grown  more  and  more  apparent  to  me  as  the  years 
have  passed  that  notwithstanding  the  direct  manner  in  which 
this  principle  appeals  to  the  understanding  and  to  the  reason, 
still,  so  cautious  has  the  rigid  scientific  method  of  the  time 
made  the  investigators  of  every  subject  that  many  may  have 
felt  that,  ill  the  treatise  referred  to,  it  was  not  sufficiently  sub- 
stantiated to  be  accepted  in  the  form  presented.  So  forcibly 
was  I  struck  with  it  at  that  time,  so  im])ressed  by  its  simplicity 

^  The  work  is  now  in  use  in  the  post  graduate  courses  of  the  University  of 
Chicago,  the  University  of  Indiana,  Cornell  University,  and  Colby  University. 


The  Social  Foi'ccs.  1 1 9 

and  obviousness,  that  from  a  desire  to  avoid  the  possible  charge 
of  seeking  to  demonstrate  an  axiom,  I  refrained  from  presenting 
the  philosophic  grounds  on  which  the  principle  itself  rests,  and 
contented  myself  with  its  simple  announcement  as  a  truth 
apparent  to  all.  The  treatment  that  followed  was  confined 
exclusively  to  the  elaboration  of  the  details  that  naturally  flow 
from  it.  But  since  the  appearance  of  that  work  in  1883  I  have 
had  many  intimations  that  this  part  of  the  subject  had  been 
slighted.  It  is  true  that  the  general  philosophy  of  desire  was 
there  treated  from  a  psychological  point  of  view  in  several 
places,  particularly  in  chapters  V,  VII,  IX,  and  XI,  but  the  more 
I  reflected  upon  it  the  more  difficult  it  appeared,  and  the  greater 
seemed  the  need  of  subjecting  it  to  a  thorough  analysis  as  a 
basis  for  the  doctrine  of  the  social  forces  to  rest  upon.  Plain 
and  simple  as  the  statement  seems  that  the  desires  constitute 
the  social  forces,  as  soon  as  the  attempt  is  made  to  go  deeper 
and  explain  the  nature  of  the  desires  great  difficulties  arise. 
The  whole  philosophy  of  feeling  is  opened  up  and  the  knotty 
problems  of  pleasure  and  pain,  of  the  soul  and  the  will,  and  the 
train  of  complicated  antecedents  to  individual  and  social  action 
must  be  probed  to  the  bottom.  Nor  can  one  escape  from  the 
consideration  of  social  friction  which  involves  the  vast  lumber- 
strewn  field  of  ethics.  Those  therefore  who  hesitate  to  accept 
the  doctrine  of  the  social  forces,  as  originally  presented,  on  the 
ground  that  it  was  not  adequately  supported  by  scientific  proofs, 
seem  to  me  to  be  much  nearer  right  than  those  who  discard  it 
because  it  is  too  elementary.  For  the  former  class  I  have  great 
respect,  and  this  I  have  endeavored  to  show  by  the  present 
attempt  to  elaborate  the  groundwork  of  that  principle.  To  do 
this  I  have  found  it  necessary  to  dwell  almost  exclusively  in  the 
domain  of  psychology,  and  to  show  that  one  great  neglected 
department  of  that  science  underlies  this  principle,  and  forms 
the  only  secure  basis  for  the  whole  science  of  sociology.  Plere 
at  last  the  mind  that  seeks  for  causal  relations  can  rest  with 
a  sense  of  satisfaction. 


I  20  Siibjcctivc  Factors. 

* 
But  in  this  search  for  the  foundations  of  sociology  we  seeni, 

as  it  were,  to  have  stumbled  upon  a  true  science  of  mind. 
Both  sciences  have  their  roots  far  down  in  the  beginnings  of 
sentient  life  and  we  find  ourselves,  whether  we  will  or  no, 
feeling  our  way  in  the  morning  twilight  of  the  soul  of  nature. 
We  assist  at  the  birth  of  a  great  transforming  agency,  and  we 
follow  this  new-born  power  to  its  maturity  in  the  social  forces. 
In  Chap.  XV  it  was  seen  that  desire  is  a  true  natural  force  and 
the  basis  of  dynamic  psychology,  which  accounts  for  the  trans- 
formations that  have  taken  place  through  the  activities  of  the 
higher  animals  and  of  man.  It  is  obvious  that  it  is  no  other 
which  is  the  motor  of  social  change,  and  the  truth  comes  forth 
that  the  social  forces  are  essentially  psychic.  It  is  this  that 
has  made  it  imperative  that  the  foundations  of  sociology  be 
sought  in  psychology.  I  wish  to  lay  special  stress  on  this 
because  it  certainly  has  not  been  sufficiently  insisted  upon,  and 
writers  on  sociology  have  seemed  rather  to  be  trying  to  base 
the  science  upon  biology  and  to  find  its  dynamics  in  the  vital 
forces. 

Although  I  have  used  the  expression  dynamic  sociology  in 
a  somewhat  special  sense,  fully  explained  in  the  work  by  that 
title,  and  to  be,  if  possible,  still  more  clearly  brought  out  in  the 
second  part  of  this  work,  still,  I  have  never  lost  sight  of  the 
primary  sense,  in  which  society  is  looked  upon  as  a  theater  of 
active  forces,  its  phenomena  explained  as  due  to  those  forces, 
and  its  condition  at  any  time  or  j^ilace  interpreted  as  the  result 
of  the  former  action  of  those  forces.  It  is  only  in  geology  that 
the  word  dynamic,  in  precisely  this  sense,  has  been  regularly 
adopted  and  is  constantly  used  to  mark  off  a  distinct  depart- 
ment of  that  science.  But  there  is  no  reason  why  it  should 
not  be  introduced  into  all  the  sciences,^  since  all  must  have,  in 
order  to  be  sciences  at  all,  their  dynamic  department.      The 

1  This  chapter  was  wrillun  early  in  March,  1S92,  since  which  date  Prof.  Simon 
N.  Patten  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  has  published  a  work  entitled  :  The 
Theory  of  DytK^fnic  Ecoiioviics.  Publications  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 
Political  ICconomy  and  Public  Law  Series,  Vol.  Ill,  No.  2,  Philadelphia,  1892. 


The  Social  Forces. 


121 


Other  departments  of  most  or  all,  sciences  are  chiefly  the  his- 
torical and  the  descriptive,  or  some  may  be  restricted  to  the 
latter  alone.  The  dynamic  department  of  the  other  sciences, 
except  geology,  either  have  not  been  specially  named  or  they 
have  been  called  by  other  names.  In  astronomy  that  dejjart- 
ment  is  usually  called  the  mathematical,  and  if  we  exclude 
sidereal  astronomy,  which  as  yet  scarcely  possesses  a  dynamic 
department,  i.e.,  is  as  yet  scarcely  a  science,  this  is  the  most 
exact  of  all  the  sciences.  In  physics  no  special  name  has  been 
given  to  this  department  because  it  embraces  so  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  science.  In  chemistry  it  includes  everything  that 
relates  to  elective  affinity  and  reagency,  and  leaves  little  else 
except  the  description  of  chemical  substances  and  the  history 
of  their  discovery.  In  biology  there  was  no  recognized  dyna- 
mic department  until  the  time  of  Darwin.  Lamarck  and  a  few 
others  had  founded  this  department  and  thus  erected  it  into  a 
science,  but  their  views  were  rejected.  It  now  has  a  definite 
dynamic  department,  and  its  phenomenal  progress  since  Darwin 
simply  shows  what  a  vivifying  power  this  principle  possesses 
whenever  it  is  applied  ;  shows,  in  a  word,  the  power  of  the 
scientific  treatment  of  any  subject. 

The  old  psychology  was  wholly  devoid  of  a  dynamic  depart- 
ment. It  was  not  a  science  but  mere  metaphysics,  i.e.,  beyond 
nature,  as  the  word  implies,  and  transcendental,  as  the  meta- 
physicians admitted.  Objective  psychology  in  and  of  itself  is 
essentially  so.  Psychology  does  not  become  a  science  until  its 
subjective  phenomena  are  considered,  because  it  is  in  these, 
that  its  forces  lie. 

With  regard  to  sociology,  although  Comte,  who  founded  and 
named  it,  dimly  perceived  that  it  joossessed  a  dynamic  depart- 
ment and  treated  both  social  statics  and  social  dynamics  at 
some  length,  and  although  Spencer  wrote  an  early  work  en- 
titled Social  Statics,  implying  the  existence  of  social  forces,  it 
remained,  I  am  bound  to  affirm,  without  a  clearly  recognized 
dynamic  department  until  the  appearance  of  Dynamic  Sociology 


1 2  2  Subjective  Factors. 

in  1883.  This  is  not  because  there  was  not  an  attempt  on  the 
part  of  both  Comte  and  Spencer  to  establish  such  a  depart- 
ment, but  because  these  authors  both  made  the  mistake  of  sup- 
posing that  the  social  forces  were  vital  instead  of  psychic 
forces.  They  both  perceived  the  analogy  between  society  and 
an  organism,  and  the  latter  has  worked  out  this  analogy  to  its 
minutest  details.  Although  much  too  competent  a  biologist 
not  to  perceive  that  it  was  only  an  analogy,  and  that  society  is 
not  a  literal  organism,  he  still  treats  the  development  of  society 
essentially  and  persistently  from  the  biological  standpoint,  and 
calls  in  as  its  conditioning  instrumentalities  the  biologic  laws 
and  principles  that  he  had  so  ably  expounded  in  his  Principles 
of  Biology. 

I  hasten  to  disclaim,  however,  that  in  the  above  is  meant  to 
be  implied  a  complete  failure  on  the  part  of  all  writers  to  rec- 
ognize the  existence  of  the  true  social  forces  as  I  define  them, 
or  of  the  fact  that  desires  are  true  forces.  There  is  no  im- 
portant truth  established  by  scientific  investigation  which  poets 
and  seers  such  as  Goethe,  Shakspeare,  and  Emerson,  have  not 
foreshadowed  in  their  vague  but  comprehensive  forms  of  dic- 
tion. Of  the  older  philosophers  Spinoza,  Hobbes,  and  Bacon 
have  given  adumbrations  of  the  true  position  of  hunger, 
and  love  as  mainsprings  to  human  action.  Among  moderns 
Maudsley  clearly  perceived  the  social  power  of  love  distinct 
from  its  physiological  function.  But  it  must  also  be  admitted 
that  both  Comte  and  Spencer  have  perceived  and  repeatedly 
referred  to  these  underlying  causes  of  social  phenomena 
and  recognized  their  fundamental  nature.  Indeed,  what  phi- 
losopher, nay,  what  thoughtful  person  could  fail .  to  see  that 
hunger,  love,  and  want  in  general  drive  men  on  in  a  great 
struggle  with  nature  and  absorb  the  energies  of  the  greater 
part  of  mankind  }  It  is  true  that  the  popular  notion  is  that 
"money"  is  what  all  the  world  is  seeking,  or,  as  some  keen- 
sighted,  coarse  natures  more  fully  and  accurately  state  it, 
"money  or  wt)men  " ;  and  the  vulgar  newspaper  heading  that 


The  Social  Forces.  123 

there  was  "a  woman  in  the  case"  shows  that  love  is  also  rec- 
ognized as  a  universal  power  in  society.  But  all  this  is  not 
philosophy.  It  is  the  mere  glimpse  which  the  masses  catch  of 
principles  that  no  one  could  formulate.  These  principles  are 
not  established  by  the  fact  that  popular  writers  crystalize 
these  glimpses  in  neat  epigrams  or  weave  them  into  romances. 
All  know  with  what  immense  labor  every  great  truth  has  had 
to  be  brought  forth  and  really  born.  A  few  university  lectures, 
laboratory  experiments,  or  even  carefully  prepared  memoirs  in 
the  Philosophical  Transactions  would  not  have  established  the 
law  of  gravitation.  It  required  the  labor  of  a  lifetime  cul- 
minating in  the  Principia  for  the  world  really  to  possess  this 
truth.  To  establish  the  law  of  organic  development  Darwin 
must  write  at  least  five  volumes  packed  with  facts  and  weighted 
with  arguments.  Cosmic  and  organic  evolution  could  make  no 
headway  until  a  Synthetic  Philosophy  was  put  behind  it.  And 
so  it  is  with  all  great  conceptions.  Littre  embodied  the  idea  in 
its  application  to  Comte's  Positive  Philosophy  when  in  his  in- 
troduction to  the  edition  of  1869,  he  said:  "II  n'est  point  de 
grande  doctrine  sans  grand  livre."  And  so  I  presume  that  the 
conception  of  a  dynamic  sociology  will  require  much  more  than 
two  thick  volumes  fairly  to  launch  it  into  the  world.  And  the 
132  pages  devoted  to  this  one  of  the  two  cardinal  principles  of 
that  doctrine  needs  to  be  supplemented  by  half  another  volume 
setting  it  squarely  upon  its  psychologic  base,  so  that  there  shall 
not  remain  the  least  chance  for  it  to  fall  or  a  single  brick  want- 
ing to  threaten  its  permanent  connection  with  the  whole  fabric 
of  nature  below  it.  Upon  biology  it  can  only  rest  unconform- 
ably  and  precariously,  since  it  is  felt  that  there  is  a  causal 
hiatus  between  them,  but  upon  psychology  it  rests  naturally 
and  safely,  since,  as  has  been  shown,  the  dynamic  department 
of  psychology  becomes  also  that  of  sociology  the  moment  we 
rise  from  the  individual  to  society.  The  social  forces  are 
the  psychic  forces  as  they  operate  in  the  collective  state  of 
man. 


124  Subjective  Factors. 

The  present  work,  therefore,  is  only  intended  to  be  com- 
plementary of  the  previous  one.  In  that  the  social  forces  were 
defined,  their  laws  established,  and  their  action  and  effects  set 
forth,  but  their  origin,  nature  and  cause  were  not  treated.  The 
foregoing  pages  are  intended  to  supply  this  deficiency  and  to 
place  the  doctrine  itself  of  true  natural  forces  in  society  upon  a 
scientific  footing. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

RECAPITULATION. 

The  several  steps  that  lead  up  through  the  labyrinth  of 
mental  phenomena  to  the  full  conception  of  social  forces  may 
now  be  briefly  summarized  with  profit. 

The  phenomena  of  mind  in  its  widest  sense  belong  to  two 
distinct  classes,  viz.,  those  embraced  under  feeling  and  those 
embraced  under  intellect,  both  these  terms  being  expanded 
to  include  both  preliminary  or  initial,  and  supplementary  or 
derivative  stages.  The  department  of  feeling  is  subjective 
psychology,  that  of  the  intellect  is  objective  psychology. 

The  impression  of  an  object  on  the  nerve  of  sense  through 
its  appropriate  medium  produces  a  sensation,  and  invariably 
must  do  so,  although  in  certain  senses  the  organism  as  a  unit 
or  ego  is  not  conscious  of  this  sensation.  Sensations  thus, 
produced  may  be  classified  as  follows  : 

T   ,        .         (  Pleasurable, 

1.  Intensive     { 

I  Painful, 

T   j-rr         4.  \  Conscious, 

2.  Indifferent  <  .  ' 

f  Unconscious. 
A  sensation  consists  in  the  transmission  of  the  impression 
in  the  form  of  some  little  understood  molecular  change  in  the 
nerve  fiber  of  the  afferent  nerve  to  the  sensorium  and  back 
along  the  efferent  nerve  to  the  point  impressed.  Whether  the 
sensation  be  intensive  or  indifferent  will  depend  upon  the  force 
of  the  impression,  strong  impressions  producing  intensive, 
feeble  ones  indifferent  sensations.  Subjective  psychology  re- 
lates to  intensive  sensations  and  their  subsequent  phenomena. 
Objective  psychology  results  from  indifferent  sensations.  A 
sensation  which,  though  distinct,  is  so  slight  as  to  produce 
neither  pleasure  nor  pain  conveys  to  the  brain  a  notion  of  the 


126  Snbjcctive  Factoids. 

nature  of  the  object  producing  it.  This  notion  is  called  a 
perception,  as  is  also  the  act  of  receiving  the  notion.  Percep- 
tions are  impressions  made  by  nerve-currents  transmitted  to 
the  cortical  layers  of  the  brain.  Such  impressions  are  reg- 
istered so  as  to  be  to  a  considerable  extent  permanent.  This 
makes  it  possible  for  the  brain  to  possess  a  large  number  of 
perceptions,  and  through  the  incessant  activity  of  all  brain 
substance  by  the  aid  of  innumerable  connecting  fibers  these 
perceptions  are  combined,  grouped,  compared,  and  classified. 
Every  object  has  numerous  qualities,  and  when  a  number  of 
such  have  been  perceived,  the  mind,  by  the  process  described, 
combines  these  into  a  conception  of  the  whole  object.  Con- 
ceptions are  compared  in  like  manner  and  their  agreement  or 
disagreement  becomes  a  third  psychological  unit  called  a  judg- 
ment. Judgments  are  subjected  to  similar  processes  and 
there  result  all  the  different  forms  of  reasoning  and  thinking. 
Memory,  imagination,  and  artistic  creation  result  from  the  fact 
that  all  psychological  operations  are  more  or  less  permanently 
registered  in  the  brain  substance  and  may  be  used  in  any 
desired  way  at  any  time.  This  entire  process,  however  far  it 
may  be  carried,  constitutes  objective  psychology  or  the  phenom- 
ena of  the  intellect. 

The  phenomena  of  feeling  constituting  subjective  psychology 
are  wholly  different  from  those  of  intellect  constituting  objec- 
tive psychology.  With  the  sensor  apparatus  there  is  always 
connected  a  motor  apparatus.  To  an  intensive  sensation  there 
is  always  a  response  along  a  motor  nerve  connecting  with  the 
ai)propriate  muscles,  and  their  contraction  results.  If  the  sensa- 
tion is  i^ainful,  those  muscles  will  contract  which  will  tend  to 
remove  the  organ  or  the  whole  organism  from  the  pain-pro- 
ducing object.  If  the  sensation  is  pleasurable  the  opposite  set 
of  muscles  will  contract,  and  the  organ  or  organism  will  approach 
the  object  and  seek  to  continue  or  increase  the  sensation. 

Besides  the  fi\'e  external  senses  there  is  a  sixth  or  internal 
sense,    which   may   be   called   the   emotional   sense.      Like   the 


Recapitulation,  127 

sense  of  touch  and  unlike  the  other  four,  it  is  diffused  through- 
out the  body,  having  no  single  local  seat,  but  having,  never- 
theless, a  number  of  regions  of  special  sensibility  due  to  exten- 
sive nerve-plexuses.  The  emotional  sense  is  located  chiefly 
or  wholly  in  parts  of  the  body  that  are  supplied  with  fibers  from 
the  great  sympathetic  nervous  system.  The  special  distinguish- 
ing characteristic  of  the  emotional  sense  is  that  it  is  not 
affected  by  material  objects  either  directly  or  through  any 
medium  of  communication,  but  receives  its  impressions  only 
through  nerve  currents  transmitted  from  the  brain.  The  objects 
producing  sensations  are  therefore  chiefly  psychologic,  the  prod- 
ucts of  brain  action  as  above  described.  Such  action  is  some- 
times called  ideation,  and  these  products,  ideas.  It  is  these 
ideas  which  produce  emotional  sensations.  This  sense  and  this 
class  of  sensations  are  of  primary  moment  to  subjective  psychol- 
ogy, although  they  depend  upon  the  phenomena  of  objectiv.i 
psychology. 

Pleasure  and  pain  are  the  conditions  to  the  existence  of 
plastic  organisms,  pleasure  leading  to  those  acts  which  insure 
nutrition,  and  reproduction,  and  pain  to  those  which  will  insure 
safety.  Both  were  developed  under  the  laws  of  natural  selec- 
tion or  survival  of  the  fittest,  and  present  no  special  biological 
anomalies  or  difficulties.  It  was  because  it  secured  these  ends 
that  the  nervous  system  acquired  its  motor  apparatus  accom- 
panying its  sensor  apparatus,  and  that  intensive  sensations 
always  result  in  the  movements  called  forth  by  the  nature  of 
the  objects  producing  them. 

In  the  animal  world  there  has  gone  on  under  the  laws  of 
evolution  a  gradual  process  of  cephalization,  by  which  the  power 
of  combining  perceptions  of  the  qualities  of  objects  into  con- 
ceptions and  remembered  mental  states  has  been  increased. 
The  remembrance  of  an  agreeable  sensation  and  its  attendant 
circumstance  gave  rise  to  the  representation  of  pleasure  not 
presently  experienced.  This  mental  state  reacted  upon  the 
emotional  sense  producing  a  special  form  of  sensation,  intensive, 


128  Subjective  Factors. 

and  essentially  painful  in  its  nature,  but  unlike  the  primary 
form  of  pain.  This  sensation  is  called  desire.  Desire  may  be 
called  secondary  or  representative  pain  in  contradistinction  to 
that  produced  by  the  too  violent  direct  contact  of  objects,  which 
is  primary  or  presentativc  pain.  Desire  is  prurient  in  its  nature, 
and  this  pruriency  is  satisfied  by  the  attainment  of  an  appro- 
priate object  which  is  to  yield  the  pleasurable  sensation  repre- 
sented. Like  other  sensations  it  is  attended  by  motor  effects, 
and  the  muscles  contracted  are  those  which  impel  the  organism 
toward  the  object  desired.  The  attainment  of  the  object  not 
only  satisfies  and  terminates  the  desire,  but  it  yields  the 
pleasure  represented.  As  desire  can  only  result  from  an  idea 
of  the  pleasure-giving  quality  of  the  object,  it  must  have 
developed  pari  passu  with  the  organ  whose  function  it  is  to 
generate  ideas,  viz.,  the  cortical  layers  or  cerebral  hemispheres. 
Hence  cephalization  had  for  its  earliest  result  the  development 
and  increase  of  conscious  desires. 

As  a  consequence  of  this  process  of  cephalization  and  in- 
creasing desire  in  the  animal  world  activity  increased,  and  this 
activity  became  a  transforming  agency.  The  leading  desires 
were  for  nutrition,  protection,  and  reproduction.  These  are 
the  ends  of  Nature  and  her  only  ends,  but  since  the  satisfaction 
of  desire  in  addition  to  securing  these  ends,  also  yielded  pleas- 
ure to  the  organism,  this  pleasure  constituted  an  end  and  was 
the  only  end  the  organism  sought.  To  attain  the  end  of  the 
organism,  pleasure,  was  to  secure  the  end  of  Nature,  function. 
]^ut  in  pursuing  solely  the  first  of  these  ends,  certain  important 
results  were  brought  about  which  had  no  relation  to  either 
pleasure  or  function,  and  which  wrought  great  changes  in  the 
constitution  of  organic  life  and  in  its  surrounding  conditions. 
The  most  important  of  these  changes  below  the  human  stage 
of  development,  were  the  creation  of  a  flower  and  fruit  bearing 
vegetation,  the  transfer  of  physical  superiority  from  the  female 
to  the  male,  and  probably  the  development  of  the  primary 
directing  faculty  of  the  brain  known  as  sauacitv  or  cunninfr. 


Rccapittilation.  129 

The  transforming  agency  was  neither  the  desire  nor  the  plea- 
sure of  satisfying  it,  still  less  the  function  thereby  subserved, 
but  the  activities  resulting  from  the  efforts  put  forth  in  the 
attainment  of  these  ends.  The  changes  wrought  were  no  part 
of  the  purpose  either  of  Nature  or  the  organism,  but  were 
purely  incidental.  They  were  not  always  beneficial,  but  have 
thus  far  been  in  the  main  progressive.  They  have  marked 
great  epochs  in  evolution.  Therefore  the  true  beneficiary  of 
their  effects  is  evolution  or  general  organic  progress.  With 
respect  therefore  to  the  general  subject  of  desire,  it  may  be 
said  that : 

1.  The  object  of  Nature  is  Function, 

2.  The  object  of  the  Organism  is  Pleasure, 

3.  The  object  of  Evolution  is  Activity. 

Considering  activities  as  motions,  the  forces  producing  those 
motions  are  the  desires,  and  we  have  a  science  which  may  be 
called  mental  physics  or  psychics.  It  constitutes  the  dynamic 
department  of  psychology  and  may  also  be  called  the  dynamics 
of  mind. 

Rising  to  the  human  stage,  while  no  change  is  perceptible 
in  the  nature  of  the  principle  considered,  the  cooperative  habits 
of  the  human  animal  resulting  in  what  is  known  as  society 
gives  this  principle  greatly  increased  importance.  Animated, 
the  same  as  the  lower  animals  only  more  intensely,  by  desires, 
seeking  those  higher  and  more  generalized  pleasures  which 
collectively  go  by  the  name  of  happiness,  man  has,  almost  as 
unconsciously  as  the  lower  animals,  put  forth  varied,  multiplied, 
and  incessant  efforts,  attended  by  universal,  continual,  and 
restless  activity,  and  resulting  in  wide-spread,  radical,  and 
colossal  changes  in  all  his  surroundings.  Not  always  useful, 
any  more  than  were  those  of  the  humbler  creatures,  these 
changes  in  his  environment  have  nevertheless  been  upon  the 
whole  progressive,  and  constitute,  taken  together,  what  is  known 
as  civilization.  Not  themselves  the  object  of  either  Nature 
or  Man,  their  true  beneficiary,  in  so  far  as  they  have  resulted  in 


1 30  Subjective  Factors. 

benefit,  has  been  society,  which  is  with  respect  to  them  as 
impersonal  and  unconscious  as  Evolution  must  be  conceived  to 
be  of  the  results  of  animal  activity.  The  conclusion  is  thus 
again  reached,  as  at  the  close  of  Chap.  XIII,  that: 

I.    The  object  of  Nature  is  Function, 

3.    The  object  of  Man  is  Happiness, 

3.    The  object  of  Society  is  Action. 

Treating  human  action  as  social  motion,  the  forces  producing 
this  motion  are  the  desires,  and  we  have  a  science  which  may 
be  called  social  physics.  It  constitutes  the  dynamic  depart- 
ment of  sociology  or  dynamic  sociology  in  the  primary  sense  of 
that  term,  the  department  which  treats  of  the  social  forces. 


PART   II. 

OBJECTIVE   FACTORS. 


The  only  means  by  which  the  condition  of  mankind  ever  has  been  or 
ever  can  be  improved,  is  the  utiUzation  of  the  materials  and  the  forces  that 
exist  in  nature. — Dynamic  Sociology,  I,  18. 

Ohne  wissenschaftliche  Beobachtung,  ohne  Versuch  und  ohne  gesunde 
Theorie  ist  in  der  Technik  stetiger  Fortschritt  undenkbar.  Er  beruht 
nothwendig  auf  bewusster  Benutzung  der  in  ihrem  gesetzmassigen  Wirken 
durchschauten  Naturkrafte.  —  Emil  Du  Bois-Reymond  :  Cidturgeschichte 
tend  A'atiirivissoischaft,  p.  19. 

What  thin  partitions  sense  from  thought  divide  !  —  Pope  :  Essay  on 
Man,  Epistle  i,  line  226. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE    OMITTED    FACTOR. 

Taking  a  retrospective  view  of  the  entire  field  of  evolution  and  bearing 
in  mind  its.  uneven  course  as  I  have  sought  to  depict  it,  there  may  be 
discerned,  standing  out  prominently  above  all  the  minor  fluctuations,  a  few 
great  cosmic  crises  or  epochs,  in  which  the  change  appears  so  abrupt  and 
so  enormous  as  to  suggest  actual  discontinuity.  Three  such  cosmic  epochs 
belong  to  the  history  of  life  on  the  globe.  The  first  was  the  origin  of  life 
itself.  The  second  was  the  origin  of  soul  or  will  in  nature.  The  third 
was  the  origin  of  thought  or  pure  intellect.  While  I  do  not  say  that  any 
of  the  factors  producing  these  epochs  came  suddenly  into  existence,  or  that 
any  definite  lines  exist  separating  life  from  soul  or  soul  from  intellect, 
theoretically  speaking,  the  general  fact  remains  that  they  are  practically 
distinct  principles,  having  diverse  effects,  originating  at  widely  different 
periods  in  the  earth's  history,  and  succeeding  one  another  in  the  order 
named. —  The  Course  of  Biologic  Evoliciion,  p.  32. 

Denn  der  Intellekt  ist  uns  allein  aus  der  animalischen  Natur  bekannt, 
folglich  als  ein  durchaus  sekundares  und  untergeordnetes  Princip  in  der 
Welt,  ein  Produkt  spiitesten  Ursprungs  :  er  kann  daher  nimmermehr  die 
Bedingung  ihres  Daseyns  gewesen  seyn,  noch  kann  ein  tnicndus  intelligi- 
bilis  dem  mundus  seiisibilis  vorhergehn  ;  da  er  von  diesem  allein  seinen 
Stoff  erhalt.  Nicht  ein  Intellekt  hat  die  Natur  hervorgebracht,  sondern  die 
Natur  den  Intellekt.  —  Schopenhauer  :  Ueber  den  JVi/Ien  in  der  A-aiur, 
P-  39- 

At  the  close  of  Chap.  V  reference  was  made  to  a  neglected 
faculty  or  intellectual  process  which  it  was  proposed  to  call 
ifititition,  or  the  intuitive  faculty,  and  to  make  the  subject  of 
special  treatment  and  the  essential  basis  of  the  discussion  in 
Part  II.  This  omitted  factor  is  a  quality  of  mind,  and,  singu- 
larly enough,  belongs  to  the  department  of  objective  psychol- 
ogy, i.  e.,  to  that  department  of  mind  which  was  first  studied 
and  which  has  received  almost  exclusive  attention.  Still  more 
strange,   it   is  the   quality  within   that   department   which   not 


1 34  Objective  Factors. 

only  was  first  developed,  but  has  been  chiefly  useful  to  those 
beings  that  possessed  the  higher  class  of  mental  attributes. 
Although  belonging  to  the  intellect,  the  operations  of  which 
have  been  so  carefully  investigated,  its  operations  have  not 
been  described,  and  notwithstanding  the  rich  terminology  that 
has  long  been  in  use  for  the  intellectual  faculties,  this  faculty 
has  not  been  named. 

While  this  remarkable  omission  added  much  to  the  sterility 
of  the  old  philosophy  of  mind,  chiefly  due,  as  stated  in  Chap. 
XIV,  to  its  failure  to  recognize  the  psychic  forces,  it  is  equally 
fatal  to  the  current  social  philosophy  in  lowering  it  to  the 
plane  of  biology  and  divesting  it  of  its  only  characteristic 
attribute,  its  essentially  human  or  anthropic  character.  It  is 
this  that  was  the  vice  of  the  old  political  economy  as  embodied 
in  the  teachings  of  Ricardo  and  Malthus,  and  the  sociology  of 
Herbert  Spencer  and  his  adherents  is  simply  an  extension  of 
the  Ricardian  and  Malthusian  doctrines.  Malthus  discovered 
a  law  of  biology,  but  applied  it  to  man  to  whom  it  is  inap- 
plicable on  account  of  this  omitted  factor.  Darwin,  who 
admits  that  he  was  inspired  to  his  great  labors  by  the  writings 
of  Malthus,  saw  the  application  of  this  law  to  the  animal 
world  and  worked  it  out  to  its  logical  end,  making  an  epoch  in 
biology.  Notwithstanding  the  failure  of  Malthusianism  at  all 
points,  the  impression  prevailed,  and  still  prevails,  that  it  is  a 
fundamental  law  of  society,  and  the  current  sociology  is  based 
upon  it.  Although  the  whole  trend  of  social  events  is  directly 
against  this  doctrine,  so  much  so  that  the  latest  utterances  of 
its  advocates  have  assumed  the  tone  of  a  general  wail  at  the 
alleged  reckless  and  headlong  tide  of  things,  still  it  is  not 
perceived  that  this  tide  is  due  to  a  wholly  neglected  element 
in  the  current  philosophy,  and  that  when  that  element  is  taken 
into  the  account  there  is  not  only  nothing  reckless  nor  head- 
long in  it,  but  it  is  the  normal  and  healthy  result  of  natural 
and  legitimate  causes. 

The    fact    is,  thanks   to  this   omitted  factor,  that    man   and 


The  Omitted  Factor.  135 

society  are  not,  excei^t  in  a  very  limited  sense,  under  the 
influence  of  the  great  dynamic  laws  that  control  the  rest  of 
the  organic  world.  Dynamic  biology  is  a  department  distinct 
from  dynamic  sociology.  The  dynamics  of  society  is,  in  the 
main,  the  antithesis  of  the  dynamics  of  animal  life.  The 
psychic  element  referred  to,  supplants  "nature"  by  art.  If  we 
call  biologic  processes  natural,  we  must  call  social  processes 
artificial.  The  fundamental  principle  of  biology  is  natural 
selection,  that  of  sociology  is  artificial  selection.  The  survival 
of  the  fittest  is  simply  the  survival  of  the  strong,  which  implies 
and  would  better  be  called  the  destruction  of  the  weak.  If 
nature  progresses  through  the  destruction  of  the  weak,  man 
progresses  through  the  protection  of  the  weak.  And  so  it  is 
throughout.     The  terms   are  all  reversed. 

It  would  be  wrong  to  say  that  modern  scientific  philosophers 
take  no  account  of  so  important  a  matter  as  brain  develop- 
ment and  human  intelligence.  They  only  fail  to  see  the 
radical  change  of  base  which  these  have  effected.  Imbued 
with  usually  safe  uniformitarian  principles  they  naturally 
shrink  from  sensational  speculations  about  cataclysmic  changes. 
But  it  is  possible  to  carry  this  method  too  far.  For  while  it 
is  true  that  nature  makes  no  leaps,  while,  so  long  as  beginnings 
only  are  considered,  all  the  great  steps  in  evolution  are  due  to 
minute  increments  repeated  through  vast  periods,  still,  when 
we  survey  the  whole  field,  as  we  must  do  to  comprehend  the 
scheme,  and  contrast  the  extremes,  we  find  that  nature  has 
been  making  a  series  of  enormous  strides,  and  reaching  from 
one  plan^  of  development  to  another.  It  is  these  independent 
achievements  that  the  true  philosopher  must  study.  Not  to 
mention  the  difference  between  a  nebula  and  a  solar  system, 
or  between  a  ball  of  fire  and  a  habitable  planet,  the  origin  of 
life,  through  the  development  of  a  substance  in  which  life 
inheres,  was  a  salt  us  that  finds  no  parallel.  In  Chap.  XI\'  was 
portrayed  the  wonderful  transformation  wrought  by  the  appear- 
ance of  what  I  have  defined  as  the  soul  in  nature,  the  date  of 


136  Objective  Factors. 

which  appearance  can  be  geologically  fixed  with  considerable 
precision.  And  now  we  have  to  contemplate  a  third  cosmic 
epoch  in  the  history  of  life,  the  birth  of  the  intellect, 
developed  in  obedience  to  the  same  laws  and  for  the 
better  attainment  of  the  same  purpose  —  the  satisfaction  of 
desire. 

The  current  sociology,  it  may  be  safely  said,  fails  to  recog- 
nize the  full  import  of  this  psychic  factor.  Just  as  metaphy- 
sicians lost  their  bearings  by  an  empty  worship  of  mind,  so 
modern  evolutionists  have  missed  their  mark  by  degrading 
mind  to  a  level  with  mechanical  force.  They  seem  thus  ready 
to  fiing  away  the  grand  results  that  the  doctrine  of  evolution 
cannot  otherwise  fail  to  achieve.  I  freely  admit  that  the 
theologians  commit  a  fatal  error  in  treating  the  soul  as  inde- 
pendent of  the  body,  but  this  enormous  fallacy  is  scarcely 
greater  than  that  of  the  modern  evolutionist,  who  ignores  the 
magnitude  of  the  step  which  was  taken  when  the  soul  acquired 
a  directing  agent.  The  enthusiastic  student  who  climbs  the 
Alps  may  climb  to  little  purpose  or  come  to  grief  unless  he 
employs  a  guide.  The  great  ship  may  sail  beautifully  in  mid- 
ocean,  but  when  she  approaches  a  harbor  she  needs  a  pilot. 
Enthusiasm  cannot  help  the  one  nor  fair  winds  save  the  other. 
The  course  of  biologic  evolution  has  been  exceedingly  irregu- 
lar, the  biologic  policy  is  extravagantly  wasteful^  so  that 
nothing  but  enormous  fecundity  could  prevent  utter  failure. 
Progress  in  nature  was  exceedingly  slow  under  the  rule  of 
simj^le  forces.  All  this  was  for  want  of  a  guide.  Indeed  it  is 
this  which  makes  all  the  difference  between  the  animal  and  the 
man.  It  is  a  superficial  view  to  suppose  thafthe  human  form 
is  essential  to  a  luniian  being.  Form  may  help  or  impede,  but 
no  particular  form  could  have  prevented  the  general  result. 
It  is  as  easy  to  see  defects  as  advantages  in  the  actual  human 
form.  If  we  are  thankful  that  man  has  a  mouth  and  teeth 
instead  of  a  toothless  beak  we  may  deplore  his  lack  of  wings. 

1  See  Chap.  XX  XI 11. 


The  Omitted  Factor.  137 

In   either   case   and   in  any  case  the  sapient  brain   would   have 
made  him  the  master  creature. 

But  the  temptation  to  descant  upon  the  results  of  "  brain 
development,"  upon  the  achievements  of  "mind,"  and  upon 
the  "rational  faculties"  has  too  often  been  yielded  to  and 
generally  proves  profitless  because  there  is  no  attempt  to  show 
how  it  comes  about  that  they  are  the  causes  of  the  observed 
effects,  and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  vmder  such  circum- 
stances that  the  popular  mind  should  as  naturally  ascribe  these 
effects  to  the  erect  posture,  the  facial  angle,  the  opposable 
thumb,  and  other  anatomical  differences  that  make  the  physical 
man,  as  to  the  more  intangible  qualities  to  which  they  are 
really  and  exclusively  due.  It  still  requires  to  be  explained 
in  a  clear  and  intelligible  way  what  the  particular  attribute 
of  mind  really  is  through  which  man's  superiority  has  been 
reached  and  by  what  steps  it  has  been  developed  and  the 
vantage-ground  gained.  The  study  of  the  commonly  accepted 
faculties  of  the  mind  does  not  accomplish  this  object.  The 
processes  of  perception,  cognition,  conception,  judgment, 
reason,  thought,  however  well  understood,  throw  no  light  on 
the  problem.  The  facts  of  memory,  imagination,  creative 
power,  wonderful  and  fascinating  though  they  may  be,  lead  us 
no  nearer  to  its  solution.  The  more  we  contemplate  these 
things  the  clearer  it  becomes  that  these  are  not  what  have 
given  man  his  advantage,  and  those  who  now  possess  them  in 
the  hierhest  decree  have  no  advantagfe  over  the  rest  of  mankind. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

INTUITION. 

The  second,  or  indirect,  method  by  which  conscious  beings  seek  to  attain 
desired  ends  involves  an  entirely  new  principle,  and  produces  wholly  dif- 
ferent results.  In  the  process  of  the  development  of  the  brain  and  the 
psychic  faculties,  a  stage  was  ultimately  reached  at  which  the  consciousness 
took  on  the  attribute  which  enabled  it  to  perceive  a  few  of  the  general  laws 
of  phenomena,  and  thereby  to  predict  from  a  given  modification  some  of 
the  secondary  changes  which  would  result.  This  is  the  simplest  manifesta- 
tion of  the  intellectual  faculty,  and  it  is  this  faculty  that  constitutes  the  new 
element  required  to  form  the  transition  from  the  direct  to  the  indirect 
method.  This  transition  constitutes  one  of  the  great  leaps  which  nature 
has  taken  along  its  course  of  evolution,  and  the  first  break  in  that  process 
since  the  development  of  protoplasm.  Henceforth  the  possibilities  of  vital 
existence  are  to  be  multiplied,  and  the  rate  of  organic  progress  enormously 
accelerated.  For  success  in  the  sentient  world  is  the  ability  to  attain  its 
ends,  and  the  intellectual  element  is  especially  adapted  to  augmenting  that 
power.  By  the  direct  method,  action  in  this  direction  is  restricted  to  cases 
which  are  within  the  muscular  strength  of  the  organism,  and  easily  acces- 
sible without  the  intervention  of  obstacles.  The  utmost  possible  to  be  ac- 
complished by  it  was  measured  by  the  energy  actually  expended.  The 
least  obstruction  beyond  the  power  of  the  individual  to  clear  away  by  mus- 
cular force  is  an  effectual  bar  to  its  access  to  the  object  of  desire.  By  the 
aid  of  the  new  element  all  this  is  changed.  Interposed  barriers  are  evaded 
by  circuitous  routes  of  approach.  Powerful  natural  forces  are  by  appro- 
priate adjustm<ints  made  to  do  the  work  of  overcoming  resistance,  and  what 
is  wholly  unattainable  in  the  present  is,  by  the  necessary  adaptation,  se- 
cured in  the  future. — Dyna)nic  Sociology,  II,  99-100. 

The  order  of  evolution  was  not  from  knowledge  in  any  form  to  feeling, 
but  the  reverse,  and  we  may  suspect  tliat  in  tlie  completest  analysis  con- 
sciousness will  still  be  found  to  obey  its  original  law.  If  the  rise  of  knowledge 
was  at  the  instance  of  feeling,  it  is  certainly  unlikely  that  a  fundamental  or- 
der should  be  more  than  apparently  reversed.  —  Hikam  M.  Stanley: 
Philosophical  Review,  July,  1892,  Vol.  I.  p.  438. 

Acknowleding  the  many  blunders  likely  to  be  made  in  so  broad  a  depart- 
ure  from   traditions,  I  yet  must  declare  tliis  whole  matter  of  tlie  biological 


Intuition.  1 39 

origin  of  mind  to  be  one  of  the  most  promising  sources  of  future  psycholog- 
ical investigation.  To  me,  also,  it  is  a  main  avenue  to  the  deeper  secrets 
of  the  universe  and  of  man's  futurity.  —  Dr.  Herbert  Nichols:  Philo- 
sophical Review,  September,  1892,  Vol.  I,  p.  534. 

Der  Wille,  als  das  Ding  an  sich,  macht  das  innere,  wahre  und  unzerstor- 
bare  Wesen  des  Menschen  aus  :  an  sich  selbst  ist  er  jedoch  bewusstlos. 
Denn  das  Bewusstseyn  ist  bedingt  durch  den  Intellekt,  und  dieser  ist  ein 
blosses  Accidenz  unseres  Wesens  :  denn  er  ist  eine  Funktion  des  Gehirns, 
welches,  nebst  den  ihm  anhangenden  Nerven  und  Riickenmark,  eine  blosse 
Frucht,  ein  Produkt,  ja,  insofern  ein  Parasit  des  iibrigen  Organismus  ist, 
als  es  nicht  direkt  eingreift  in  dessen  inneres  Getriebe,  sondern  dem  Zweck 
der  Selbsterhaltung  bloss  dadurch  dient,  dass  es  die  Verhiiltnisse  desselben 
2ur  Aussenwelt  regulirt.  —  Schopenhauer  :   Welt  als  Wille,  II,  224, 

Diese  Steigerung  der  Gehirnentwickelung,  also  des  Intellekts  und  der 
Klarheit  der  Vorstellung,  auf  jeder  dieser  immer  hoheren  Stufen,  wird  aber 
herbeigefiihrt  durch  das  sich  immer  mehr  erhohende  und  komplicirende 
Bediirfniss  dieser  Ei'scheinungen  des  Willens.  Dieses  muss  immer  erst  den 
Aniass  dazu  geben  :  denn  ohne  Noth  bringt  die  Natur  (d.  h.  der  in  ihr  sich 
objektivirende  Wille)  nichts,  am  wenigsten  die  schwierigste  ihrer  Produc- 
tionen,  ein  vollkommneres  Gehirn  hervor.  —  Schopenhauer  :  Ibid.  II,  315. 

In  giving  the  name  inlnitioii  to  the  omitted  factor  just  con- 
sidered, at  least  to  its  earher  manifestations,  I  do  so  to  avoid 
the  introduction  of  a  new  term,  and  in  the  full  knowledge  that 
much  has  been  said  about  intuition.  I  would  not  do  so,  how- 
ever, if  it  did  not  seem  evident  that  the  application  here  to  be 
made  is  really  an  extension  of  the  commonly  accepted  meaning, 
even  the  popular  sense  of  that  term,  nevertheless  the  appli- 
cation is  a  new  one  and  few  would  probably  recognize  its 
appropriateness. 

The  discovery  of  the  true  dynamic  principle  in  biology  has 
not  only  revolutionized  that  science,  but  must  equally  affect 
those  sciences  which  rest  upon  biology,  viz.,  psychology  and 
sociology.  While  the  dynamic  agent  in  biology  is  not  the 
same  as  that  of  psychology  the  latter  has  been  a  direct  out- 
growth from  the  former.  The  key  note  to  the  whole  series  is 
the  notion  of  advantas:e.      It  has  been  seen  that  the  origin  and 


140  Objective  Factors. 

growth  of  the  soul-force  in  nature  have  taken  place  in  response 
to  the  correspondingly  increasing  demand  for  opportunity  to 
expand.  To  the  organism  the  only  gain  consists  in  increased 
ability  to  satisfy  desire;  anything  that  secures  that  end  becomes 
an  object  of  effort.  From  this,  resulted  the  development  of 
the  conative  power.  It  is  the  essential  of  sentient  life  to 
strive.  Desire  is  the  force  that  impels  all  activity,  and  by  the 
multiplication  of  desires  and  the  strengthening  of  their  inten- 
sity, all  was  attained  that  the  operation  of  pure  psychic  energy 
was  capable  of  accomplishing.  Whatever  obstacles  could  be 
thus  overcome  were  removed,  and  all  the  ends  of  being  that 
would  yield  to  the  power  of  direct  effort  were  realized.  This 
is  still  the  chief  method  employed  by  animals  and  the  lower 
types  of  men  in  compassing  their  ends.  In  popular  parlance 
it  is  described  with  tolerable  accuracy  as  brute  force. 

But  there  were  innumerable  objects  of  desire  that  could  not 
be  attained  by  this  method.  Hence  innumerable  desires  were 
doomed  to  go  unsatisfied.  The  higher  the  development  the 
more  complex  and  varied  the  desires,  and  the  greater  the 
proportion  of  those  that  were  unattainable  by  the  primary 
method  of  direct  effort.  Just  as  in  the  realm  of  pure  biologic 
law  the  stage  of  organization  reached  at  any  given  epoch  was 
capable  of  development  only  to  a  certain  point,  beyond  which 
the  organism  could  not  progress,  and  at  which  it  must  stop 
and  remain  until  some  new  and  better  structures  could  be  de- 
veloped that  would  admit  of  a  new  departure,  so  in  the  realm 
of  psychic  law  the  pure  conative  force  was  incapable  of  allowing 
the  organism  to  advance  beyond  a  certain  stage,  where  it  would 
have  remained  indefinitely  but  for  the  appearance  of  a  new 
psychic  faculty  adapted  to  giving  it  a  new  impetus.  This  stage 
corresponds  roughly  with  the  summit  of  the  animal  series, 
although  the  new  element  began  to  be  operative  some  time 
anterior  to  this  period.  Again,  just  as  any  new  and  progres- 
sive structure  in  biology,  such  as  the  trunk  in  trees,  the  floral 
organs  that  succeeded  the  spore-bearing  state,  the  closed  ovary, 


IiitMitioii.  1 4 1 

or  the  successive  steps  in  the  development  of  the  floral  en- 
velopes, may  be  looked  upon  as  so  many  devices  of  nature  to 
secure  the  biologic  end  of  increasing  the  mass  of  organic 
matter  in  the  world,  so  each  new  psychic  quality  which  secures 
the  increased  gratification  of  desire  and  thus  fulfils  in  an  in- 
creased degree  the  psychic  end,  enjoyment,  may  be  similarly 
regarded  as  a  device  of  nature  adapted  to  its  peculiar  purpose. 
And  yet  each  such  step  in  organic  evolution  has  a  long  history 
behind  it,  is  the  normal  effect  of  antecedent  causes,  and  was 
brought  to  any  observed  stage  of  perfection  through  the  slow 
operation  of  developing  influences.  It  is  the  general  failure  to 
recognize  this  truth  that  renders  the  current  philosophy  of  the 
mind  so  unsatisfactory,  and  which,  I  fully  believe,  has  led  to 
such  remarkable  omissions  as  the  one  now  under  consideration. 
In  biology  it  is  becoming  recognized  that  the  beings  inhabiting 
the  earth,  considered  as  material  organic  products,  have  been 
raised  to  their  present  estate  through  a  prolonged  series  of 
developmental  steps,  but  in  psychology  it  is  still  the  practice 
to  deal  with  mind  as  something  independent  of  the  past,  as  if 
it  had  come  forth,  like  its  goddess  Minerva,  full-fledged  from 
the  brain  of  Jove. 

Guided  by  the  biologic  principle  of  advantage,  keeping  in 
view  the  psychologic  end,  enjoyment,  and  considering  the 
inadequacy  of  the  primary  psychic  means  to  that  end,  direct 
effort  or  brute  force,  we  are  in  position  to  penetrate  into  the 
intimate  conditions  which  must  have  combined  to  give  direction 
to  developmental  tendencies  leading  to  the  origin  and  genesis 
of  a  psychic  faculty  destined  to  usher  in  a  new  and  higher 
epoch.  Desire,  as  a  true  natural  force,  impels  the  organism  in 
a  straight  line  toward  the  attracting,  or  away  from  the  repelling 
object.  But  obstacles  intervene.  At  first,  while  activity  is 
sluggish,  the  organism,  like  a  material  body  similarly  acted 
upon,  simply  comes  to  rest.  Its  force  meets  a  counter-force, 
and  equilibrium  results.  But  later,  when  desire  has  grown 
stronger  and  activity  more  intense,  while  locomotion  is  checked 


142  Object  he  Factors. 

by  intervening  obstacles,  internal  motion,  or  motility,  continues, 
and  the  effort  is  unabated.  Imagine  it  to  be  a  winged  insect. 
Its  wings  continue  to  vibrate  the  same  as  if  no  obstacle  were 
in  its  way.  Suppose  the  obstacle  to  be  transparent  and  the 
goal  to  remain  in  full  view.  Against  this  obstruction  the 
creature  persists  in  buzzing,  each  vibration  only  serving  to 
produce  pressure  against  it.  Fatigue  at  length  causes  the 
insect  to  yield  to  the  force  of  gravitation.  It  falls  below  and 
perchance  encounters  an  opening  through  which  it  immediately 
darts  and  secures  the  coveted  prize.  But  should  this  not 
occur,  a  moment  of  comparative  repose  restores  its  energy  and 
it  resumes  its  efforts,  this  time  moving  irregularly  and  for- 
tuitously over  the  surface  against  which  it  continues  to  press 
until  it  either  accidentally  rises  above  it,  or  shifts  its  position 
to  its  right  or  left  margin,  or  to  another  opening  through  it, 
and  thus  succeeds.  If  we  suppose  an  environment  in  which 
this,  or  a  similar  obstruction,  impedes  a  large  proportion  of  its 
efforts,  an  environment  which  remains  more  or  less  permanent 
through  an  indefinite  number  of  generations  of  such  a  creature, 
the  advantage  derived  from  such  persistent  vertical  and  lateral 
movements  would  be  such  as  to  develop  in  the  brain  through 
the  known  laws  of  selection  and  survival,  modifications  of 
structure  adapted  to  their  regular  and  systematic  execution. 
Those  individuals  in  which  this  quality  was  best  developed, 
would  be  the  ones  that  would  live  longest  and  be  most  certain 
to  leave  ])()stcrity,  until  those  devoid  of  it  would  have  dis- 
appeared, and  an  organism  would  be  developed  possessing 
superior  ability  to  satisfy  its  desires.  This  mental  quality 
would  at  first  take  the  form  of  an  instinct,  but  all  instincts  are 
only  partially  so,  and  the  faculty  would  soon  be  strengthened 
sufficiently  to  meet  and  overcome  slight  changes  in  the  environ- 
ment. In  fact,  the  less  instinctive  it  was,  the  greater  would  be 
the  advantage,  and  it  would  continue  to  develop  as  long  as  such 
development  possessed  any  advantage.  This  development 
would     consist    in    the    formation    of    cortical    centers    whose 


hituition.  143 

function  it  is  to  guide  the  activities  of  an  organism  to  the 
performance  of  acts  which  in  themselves  have  no  direct  effect 
in  attaining  the  ends  of  its  being,  but  by  the  aid  of  which 
alone,  in  a  vast  number  of  cases,  it  is  enabled  to  attain  them. 

This  step  in  the  progress  of  intellectual  development  may 
be  characterized  as  the  stage  of  exploration.  It  is  well  illus- 
trated by  the  numerous  experiments  actually  made  on  frogs. 
This  animal,  before  the  vivisectionist  has  removed  its  cerebral 
hemispheres,  has  this  faculty  fully  developed.  Placed  at  the 
bottom  of  a  tank  of  water  with  a  bell-glass  over  it,  it  will 
soon  require  air  and  rise  to  the  submerged  surface  of  the 
bell-glass  through  which  it  sees  the  free  open  air  and  light 
above,  which  it  cannot  reach  by  this  method.  Instead  of  con- 
tinuing to  press  against  the  bell-glass  indefinitely  until  it 
drowns,  it  will  immediately  commence  a  series  of  movements, 
first  about  the  upper  surface,  then  round  the  sides,  and  finally 
back  to  the  bottom.  If  space  enough  exists  on  any  side  under 
the  lower  edge  of  the  bell-glass  for  it  to  escape,  it  will  find  it, 
and  soon  come  up  to  the  top  of  the  water  outside  the  glass. 
If,  however,  its  hemispheres  have  been  skillfully  removed  so 
as  not  greatly  to  injure  the  animal's  vitality,  as  is  easily  done,  it 
is  remanded  to  the  condition  of  our  hypothetical  insect  before 
the  development  of  the  exploring  instinct,  and  will  remain  as 
motionless  under  the  roof  of  the  bell-glass  as  do  the  bubbles 
it  has  generated,  which  latter  act  under  the  influence  of  purely 
physical  laws. 

The  frog  has  doubtless  passed  the  stage  of  mere  instinctive 
exploration,  and  fairly  entered  upon  the  second  stage,  which 
may  more  properly  be  called  that  of  incipient  intuition.  By 
the  aid  of  the  faculty  it  has  acquired  it  is  able  to  perceive  that 
the  indirect  act  will  be  the  successful  one.  But  even  if  it 
could  see  distinctly  the  opening  below,  so  feeble  is  this  faculty 
that  it  would  probably  first  explore  the  interior  of  the  bell- 
glass  and  not  finally  hit  upon  the  right  way  until  a  large 
number   of  ineffective   ways   had  first  been   tried.     The   third 


144  Objective  Factors. 

stage,  or  that  of  /////  intuition,  is  not  reached  until  the 
creature,  after  surveying  its  surroundings,  is  capable  of  per- 
ceiving from  the  outset  that  only  by  setting  out  in  a  direction 
different  from  that  of  the  object  to  be  attained,  can  it  succeed. 
It  will  therefore  undertake  no  explorations,  but  will  proceed 
directly  to  the  location  of  the  means  as  if  it  were  itself  the 
end.  A  canary  shut  up  in  a  room  will  fly  against  a  closed 
window  to  escape,  but  a  jackdaw  will  seek  a  small  opening 
which  leads  out,  although  it  may  be  so  arranged  as  not  to 
admit  the  light. 

By  considering  a  great  variety  of  animals  possessing  different 
degrees  of  this  attribute  all  gradations  between  the  purely 
machine-like  actions  of  the  lower  types  and  the  highest  stage 
reached  in  the  subhuman  world  could  probably  be  found.  The 
display  of  this  quality  would  be  seen  not  to  coincide  exactly 
with  the  purely  biological  development,  nor  to  depend  upon 
physical  organization  entirely,  although  in  the  long  run  there  is 
a  rough  correspondence  of  this  kind.  But  some  invertebrates 
are  psychically  higher  than  some  vertebrates,  and  some  birds 
than  many  mammals.  It  depends  largely  upon  other  conditions, 
such  as  environment,  mode  of  subsistence,'  fecundity,  etc.  It 
will  be  higher  in  a  hostile  environment  than  in  one  where 
dangers  are  few;  predatory  animals  have  it  greatly  in  excess  of 
herbivorous  ones,  and  a  slow  rate  of  breeding  calls  it  forth  as  a 
substitute  for  numbers.  This  last  is  clearly  exemplified  in  the 
contrast  in  thesfe  respects  between  rats  and  mice,  though  so 
closely  related  otherwise,  yet  in  this  case  the  larger  size  of  the 
rat  doubtless  has  much  to  do  with  it.  A  very  late  influence 
also  comes  in  here  and  is  now  exceedingly  potent  with  many 
other  animals,  viz.,  the  fear  of  man.  The  tameness  of  animals 
on  remote  islands,  as  the  Galapagos,  has  been  much  discussed, 
but  many,  like  myself,  have  had  opportunity  to  watch  the 
l^rogress  of  this  principle  in  the  game  at  points  where  popula- 
tion has  rapidly  increased.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  the 
time   is  here   sufficient   to   assume   an   actual   develoiDment   of 


Intuition.  145 

special  cortical  centers,  though  this  may  be  more  rapid  than 
would  be  supposed,  but  it  is  probable  that  such  centers  already 
existing  in  such  birds  as  the  pinnated  grouse  (prairie-hen),  for 
example,  but  previously  developed  for  other  purposes,  have 
taken  on  this  additional  function  vicariously,  and  have  been 
quickly  fitted  up,  as  it  were,  for  their  new  duties. 

If  we  search  the  matter  to  the  bottom  we  will  find  that  not 
only  are  all  these  different  manifestations  virtually  one  and  the 
same  faculty,  but  that  no  other  strictly  intellectual  faculty  exists 
in  the  animals  considered.  It  is  the  primary  and  original  form 
that  intellect  assumes,  and  is,  up  to  the  highest  stage  thus  far 
treated,  the  intellect  itself.  Unlike  the  so-called  reflective 
faculties  that  have  formed  the  subject  of  nearly  all  psycho- 
logical investigation,  this  attribute  is  intensely  practical,  exists 
for  a  definite  purpose,  and  is  the  means  and  secret  of  success 
to  the  beings  that  possess  it  in  the  great  struggle  for  existence. 
It  is  simple  and  direct,  and  beyond  the  steps  explained  which 
led,  as  one  may  say,  to  its  discovery  through  exploration,  it  is 
incapable  of  analysis  or  reduction  to  lower  terms. 

I  have  called  this  faculty  intuition  from  the  etymological 
accuracy  of  the  word.  It  consists  in  a  power  acquired  by 
the  mind,  of  looking  into  a  more  or  less  complicated  set  gf 
circumstances  and  perceiving  that  movements  which  are  not  in 
obedience  to  the  primary  psychic  force  are  those  that  promise 
success.  It  may  be  called  psychic  attraction,  or  the  faculty  of 
converting  means  into  ends  and  diverting  the  psychic  force 
from  the  latter  to  the  former.  The  means  is  made  for  the 
time  being  the  object  of  desire,  and  as  such  is  directly  sought. 
But  in  order  to  this  it  must  be  first  seen  by  the  mind,  which 
must  possess  a  distinct  motor  apparatus  for  switching  off  the 
train  of  ideas  from  the  track  that  leads  to  the  end  to  the  one 
that  leads  to  the  means.  From  another  point  of  view  this  kind 
of  intuition  may  be  called  a  perception  of  relations.  Perception 
proper,  as  defined  in  Chap.  V,  is  an  entirely  different  thing. 
It   merely   notes   the   nature   of  an    object,  either   directly   or 


146  Objective  Factors. 

through  its  appropriate  medium,  in  cases  where  the  impression 
produces  an  indifferent  sensation.  It  is  also  different  from 
my  understanding  of  the  German  term  AnscJiauntig,  which,  as 
Kant  says  "relates  immediately  to  the  object,"  although  this 
object  need  not,  as  in  the  case  of  perception,  be  material,  but 
may  be  either  time  or  space.  This  doubtless  comes  much 
nearer  to  the  attribute  in  question  and  by  a  slight  extension  of 
the  Kantian  definition  may  be  made  to  include  it.  But  intuition 
as  here  used  is  always  a  pc7xeption  of  relations,  not  merely  in 
time  and  space,  but  relations  of  resistance  and  direction. 
Moreover,  I  am  not  aware  that  Kant,  although  he  translates 
the  German  word  by  the  Latin  intuitns,  has  ever  applied  it  to 
the  primary  and  practical  quality  of  mind  here  described.  It  is 
with  him  a  purely  metaphysical  conception,  furnishing  through 
the  senses  the  objects  of  the  mind  in  its  complex  processes  of 
ideation,  reason,  and  thought.  The  new  intuition  is  of  a  higher 
order.  It  employs  the  senses  but  is  not  directly  derived  from 
them.  It  is  a  form  of  thought,  is  under  subjection  to  the  will, 
is  the  product  of  ever-pressing  and  constantly  unsatisfied  desire, 
and  therefore  has  its  origin  in  the  emotional  sense.  It  is  much 
more  closely  linked  to  the  great  subjective  psychic  trunk  of  the 
mjnd  than  any  of  the  so-called  faculties  treated  in  the  books. 
It  is,  in  fact  the  intellect  itself  in  its  fundamental  form,  is  much 
older  than  the  reason,  and  is  the  parent  of  all  the  later  faculties 
of  abstraction  and  reflection. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

INTUITIVE    PERCEPTIOX. 

It  is  only  under  the  guidance  of  the  intellectual  faculty  that  the  first  step 
in  this  direction  can  be  taken.  The  means  necessary  to  be  employed  differ 
so  widely  from  the  ends  that  intellectual  foresight  can  alone  insure  their 
adoption  even  in  the  simplest  cases.  The  acts  really  required  are  so  wholly 
unlike  those  which  would  be  required  if  the  end  were  directly  sought,  that 
a  highly  developed  rational  faculty  is  demanded  in  all  beings  that  are  capa- 
ble of  performing  them.  When  a  being,  endowed  with  desires  to  be  satis- 
fied, is  made  acquainted  with  the  existence  of  a  desirable  object,  it  is 
immediately  prompted  to  move,  or  to  put  forth  efforts,  in  the  direction  of 
that  object.  To  such  a  being,  another,  desiring  the  same  object,  that 
should  turn  away  from  it  and  commence  making  adjustments  in  other 
objects  lying  about,  would,  to  use  the  language  of  fable,  apjjear  extremely 
stupid.  It  would  be  an  uiinattiral  action,  i.  e.,  it  would  be  an  artificial  one. 
If  successful  in  securing  the  end,  unattainable  by  direct  effort,  it  would 
be  an  exercise  of  true  art,  and  would  involve  an  acquaintance  with  the 
principles  of  true  science. — Dyniainic  Sociology,  II,  380. 

Ttjz'    5^    irpdiT-qv    bpfx-qv    (pa<TL    rb     '^if)ov  to'x^'-^    f""'    ''"o   Trjpeiv  iavro.  —  DiOGEXES 

Laertius  :  Zcno,  52. 

Nulla  virtus  potest  prior  hac  (nempe  conatu  sese  conservandi)  concipi.  — 
Spinoza  :  Ethica,  Pars  IV,  Propositio  XXII. 

Die  Nahrung  muss  daher  aufgesucht,  ausgewahlt  werden,  von  dem  Punkt 
an,  wo  das  Thier  dem  Ei  oder  Alutterleibe,  in  welchem  es  erkenntnisslos 
vegetirte,  sich  entwunden  hat.  Dadurch  wird  hier  die  Bewegung  auf 
Motive  und  wegen  dieser  die  Erkenntniss  nothwendig,  welche  also  eintritt  als 
ein  auf  dieser  Stufe  der  Objektivation  des  Willens  erfordertes  Hiilfsmittel, 
firixavrii  zur  Erhaltung  des  Individuums  und  Fortpflanzung  des  Geschlechts. 
Sie  tritt  hervor.  reprasentirt  durch  das  Gehirn  oder  ein  grosseres  Ganglion, 
eben  wie  jede  andere  Bestrebung  oder  Bestimmung  des  sich  objektivirenden 
Willens  durch  ein  Organ  reprasentirt  ist.  d.  h.  fiir  die  A'orstellung  sich  als 
ein  Organ  darstellt.  — Schopenhauer  :    Jl^cl/  als  IVille,  I,  179. 

Selbst  der  Verstand  der  Thiere  wird  durch  die  Noth  bedeutend  gestei- 
gert,  so  dass  sie  in  schwierigen  Fallen  Dinge  leisten,  iiber  die  wir  erstaunen: 


148  ObjiClivc  luictors. 

z.  15.  fast  alio  hcreclinLn.  (lass  cs  sicherer  ist,  nicht  zu  flielien,  wann  sie  sich 
ungesehcn  glaul)cn  :  dahcr  licgt  der  Hase  still  in  der  Furche  des  Feldes 
und  lasst  den  Jatjer  dicht  an  sich  vorbeigehen  ;  Insekten,  wenn  sie  nicht 
cntrinncn  konnon.  stcllen  sich  todt  u.  s.  f.  Genauer  kann  man  diesen  Ein- 
fluss  kcnnen  lernen  durch  die  specielle  Selbstbildungsgeschichte  des  Wolfes, 
unter  dcm  Sporn  der  grossen  Schwierigkeit  seiner  Stellung  in  civilisirten 
Europa:  sie  ist  zu  finden  im  zweiten  Briefe  des  vortrefflichen  Buches  von 
Lero\-,  Lctlrcs  sur  rintellii^cnce  et  la  perfcctibilite  ties  aniinaux.  Gleich 
daraiif  folgt,  im  dritten  Briefe,  die  hohe  Schule  des  Fuchses,  welcher,  in 
gleich  schwicriger  Lage,  vie!  geringere  Korperkrafte  hat,  die  bei  ihni  durch 
grossern  \'erstand  ersetzt  sind,  der  aber  doch  erst  durch  den  bestiindigen 
Kampf  mit  der  Xoth  einerseits  und  der  Gefahr  andererseits,  also  unter  dem 
Sporn  des  Willens,  den  hohen  Grad  von  Schlauheit  erreicht,  welcher  ihn, 
besonders  im  Alter,  auszeichnet.  —  Schopenhauer:  Wcli  ah  IVille,  II, 
24S-249. 

It  is  the  peculiarity  of  the  main  branch  of  the  intellectual 
faculty,  intuition,  that  it  was  developed  under  the  spur  of 
strong  feeling  or  passion,  i.e.,  of  desire.  It  was  a  product  of 
and  outgrowth  from  this  as  the  main  trunk  of  the  mind,  of 
which  intellect  may  be  considered  a  branch.  It  came  as  a  last 
resort  to  the  assistance  of  the  psychic  force  in  its  effort  to 
secure  the  chief  ends  of  being.  As  these  chief  ends  are  sus- 
tenance, safety,  and  reproduction,  it  is  the  desires  which  lead 
to  these  ends  that  are  strongest  and  that  therefore  mainly  call 
out  this  method  for  their  satisfaction.  The  several  stages 
attained  in  the  develojjment  of  this  faculty,  above  those  of 
mere  exploration  and  simple  animal  intuition,  go  by  different 
names.  In  speaking  of  their  manifestation  in  animals  the 
terms  sagacity  and  iiiiniiug  are  commonly  used,  although  both 
these  terms  are  also  applied  to  men.  Among  the  definitions 
of  ••sagacious"  in  the  Centiuy  Dictionary  we  find:  "Keenly 
perceptive  ;  discerning,  as  by  some  exceptionally  developed  or 
extraordinary  natural  power  .  .  .  having  keen  jiractical  sense," 
etc.  One  finds  no  attempt  to  analyze  these  terms.  They  are 
regarded  as  simi)le,  and  are  really  well  understood  by  every 
one.  The  intellectual  act  which  they  describe  is  as  direct  or 
unmediated    as    ])erceplion    or    Anscluxiiuiig.      It    consists,    as 


Int2iitivc  Perception.  149 

does  the  simpler  intuition,  of  a  perception  of  relations  of 
resistance,  direction,  etc.,  implies  cognition  of  properties  and 
forces,  and  always  connects  these  with  utility,  i.e.,  is  always 
practical. 

In  the  cases  considered  in  the  last  chapter  the  properties 
and  relations  involved  are  those  of  inanimate  objects,  but  in 
sagacity  and  cunning  they  are  largely  those  of  other  organisms 
whose  activities  are  conceived  as  uniform  under  like  circum- 
stances. Where  this  quality  is  exercised  in  the  interest  of 
safety,  in  escaping  danger,  the  degree  of  penetration  is  usually, 
but  not  always,  lower  than  when  exercised  in  the  interest  of 
sustentation  or  reproduction.  Creatures  in  which  it  is  not  de- 
veloped have  no  means  of  insuring  safety  except  in  direct  flight 
from  the  source  of  danger,  but  in  some  the  modes  of  escape 
become  indirect.  When  pursued  by  dogs  certain  birds,  as  the 
ruffed  grouse  {Bonasa  iivibclhis),  simply  fly  into  trees,  perceiv- 
ing that  dogs  do  not  climb.  They  continue  flying  if  flushed 
by  men.  The  pinnated  grouse  habitually  hides  ("skulks")  in 
the  grass  and  displays  great  power  of  assuming  invisible 
attitudes.  I  once  saw  one  of  these  birds  alight  on  an  almost 
barren  spot  between  two  plowed  areas.  Proceeding  to  the 
place  I  searched  during  fifteen  minutes  in  the  immediate  vicin- 
ity, scanning  the  ground  carefully.  At  last  the  reflection  of 
light  from  its  eye  betrayed  it  to  my  view,  and  I  could  then  see 
that  the  entire  bird  was  in  plain  sight  and  was  so  near  that  I 
killed  it  with  my  gun-barrel.  I  had  stepped  over  it  several 
times.  Hares  will  pretend  to  follow  a  hedge,  but  finally  go 
through  it  and  return  past  their  pursuers  on  the  other  side. 
The  habits  of  various  birds  and  animals  of  the  gregarious  kinds 
in  appointing  sentinels,  flying  in  triangles,  etc.,  are  familiar 
examples. 

The  pursuit  of  food  by  herbivorous  and  granivorous  animals 
usually  calls  this  faculty  very  slightly  into  exercise,  or  not  at 
all,  but  carnivorous  animals  display  it  in  a  high  degree.  They 
knoiv,  as  we  say,  what  their  victims  will  do  under  given  circum- 


1  ^o  Objective  Factors. 

stances  and  devise  means  to  prevent  their  escape.  Stealth 
and  slyness  in  approaching  them,  advantage  taken  of  the  time 
and  place  of  attack,  are  among  the  commoner  modes  in  which 
they  manifest  their  cunning.  The  fox  is  usually  taken  as  the 
type  of  such  animals,  and  similar  traits  in  men  gain  for  them 
the  name  of  being  ''foxy,"  while  to  this  whole  class  of  acts 
the  term  "vul]Mnism"  is  sometimes  applied. 

But  it  is  in  connection  with  the  function  of  reproduction 
that  this  quality  is  probably  called  forth  in  the  most  effective 
manner.  This  may  seem  a  surprising  statement,  but  anyone 
who  has  read  Darwin's  chapters  on  sexual  selection  as  an 
element  in  the  "descent  of  man"  cannot  fail  to  realize  its 
truth.  Here  it  is  no  longer  an  effort  to  outwit  other  animals 
much  inferior  in  this  power.  It  is  necessary  to  measure  swords 
with  others  of  the  same  species  and  the  faculty  is  sharpened  to 
the  utmost  extent.  The  rivalry  of  the  males  for  the  possession 
of  the  females  is  of  the  most  intense  nature.  Not  only  must 
they  understand  the  ways  of  their  own  sex,  but  they  must 
cater  to  the  caprices  of  the  females.  Only  a  small  proportion 
can  at  best  succeed.  The  greater  number  in  most  species  are 
doomed  to  failure  and  celibacy.  The  instinct  is  the  strongest 
of  all  passions.  The  prize  is  infinitely  great  and  the  effort 
correspondingly  supreme.  Every  art  is  calle'd  into  play. 
Every  quality  of  attraction  and  fascination  is  displayed.  Rivals 
must  not  only  be  discomfited  in  open  battle,  they  must  be 
cinittiivciitcd  in  secret  intrigue.  Along  therefore  with  the 
devx'lopment  of  strength  and  weapons  to  overcome  antagonists, 
and  of  size,  beauty,  and  grace  to  charm  the  females  there  goes 
an  esj^ecial  and  rapid  development  of  physic  power  to  secure 
in  in<lircct  ways  wliat  is  unattainable  in  direct  ways.  It  is  such 
facts  that  have  led  me  to  suspect,  as  stated  in  Chap.  XIV,  that 
brain  development  may  be  regarded  as  a  true  secondary  sexual 
character,  belonging  primarily  to  males,  like  tusks,  antlers, 
gaudy  tail-feathers,  and  sujierior  si/.C;  but  reflected,  as  many 
such  arc,  in  a  feel^ler  manner  in  the  female  anatomy. 


Intuitive  Perception.  1 5 1 

But  in  the  females  also,  besides  the  same  efforts  as  the  males 
to  obtain  food,  a  certain  mental  power  of  an  indirect  kind  is 
exercised  in  the  course  of  these  courtships.  The  forms  of 
refusal  are  manifold  and  require  skill.  During  the  greater 
part  of  the  life  of  any  female  animal  the  attentions  of  the 
males  are  intolerable  while  their  desires  are  uninterrupted. 
Something  more  than  brute  force  is  required  to  prevent 
violence  being  done  to  nature.  For  this  numerous  arts  are 
resorted  to,  and  cunning  devices  contrived.  But  even  at  the 
proper  time  her  preferences  must  be  respected  and  unwelcome 
suitors  must  be  successfully  thwarted  in  their  persistent  efforts. 
To  accomplish  all  this  involves  the  practice  of  innumerable 
wiles  and  strategems.     She  becomes  coy,  artful,  and  deceptive. 

To  this  may  properly  be  added  the  influence  of  parental  care 
in  developing  the  intuitive  faculty,  and  here  it  expends  itself 
almost  exclusively  on  the  female.  Usually,  it  is  true,  the 
mother  knows  no  better  way  than  direct  open  attack  upon  any- 
thing that  threatens  to  harm  her  offspring  and  relies  on  vio- 
lence and  fury  to  frighten  enemies  even  a  hundred  fold  her 
match  in  physical  strength.  But  this  is  usually  accompanied 
by  the  device,  aided  by  special  muscular  development,  of  as- 
suming a  formidable  mien  by  the  erection  of  hairs  or  the  ruf- 
.fling  of  feathers.  The  most  important  of  these  modes  of 
protecting  offspring,  however,  is  the  wholly  indirect  one  of 
feigning.  Almost  all  birds  and  many  mammals  habitually  feign 
lameness  on  the  approach  of  an  enemy,  and  thus  seek,  usually 
with  success,  to  decoy  the  enemy  into  a  fruitless  pursuit  of 
themselves  until  far  away  from  the  spot  where  the  young  ones 
are  being  kept.  There  is  great  diversity  in  these  evolutions 
of  the  female,  and  although,  like  most  of  the  other  acts  of  this 
general  class  among  animals,  they  come  at  length  to  constitute 
true  instincts,  still  their  development  has  involved  cerebral 
modifications  in  the  general  direction  of  cephalization  and  in 
the  special  direction  of  building  up  coordinating  convolutions 
of  the  class  now  under  consideration. 


^5- 


C  ^bjcctii  'c  Juictoj's. 


It  is  only  in  some  of  the  mentally  highest  animals,  especially 
domestic  clogs,  elephants,  and  a  few  horses,  that  the  clearest 
cases  of  true  sagacity  are  to  be  found.  Anecdotes  relating  to 
such  cases,  often  unreliable,  but  too  numerous  and  common  to 
be  ignored,  are  familiar  to  everyone.  How  far  the  principle 
has  been  carried  in  other  wild  animals  than  the  elephant  it  is 
not  easy  to  learn.  The  following  experience  of  my  own  may 
be  recorded  for  what  it  is  worth  :  In  the  summer  of  1875  while 
making  botanical  collections  in  Rabbit  Valley  on  Fremont 
River,  Utah,  the  camp  was  several  times  invaded  by  coyotes 
(the  common  prairie  wolf,  Canis  latmiis)  during  the  absence  of 
myself  and  my  assistant,  and  these  animals  would  howl  round 
us  nights,  sometimes  approaching  quite  closely.  I  finally  set 
my  fowling  piece,  both  barrels  loaded  with  buckshot,  in  a  gulch 
among  the  sagebrush  a  hundred  yards  from  the  tent,  attaching 
a  piece  of  fresh  meat  to  a  string  twenty  yards  long,  which  at 
the  opposite  end  passed  round  the  stem  of  a  bush  and  was  tied 
to  both  triggers.  The  least  jerk  on  the  string  would  fire  off 
the  gun  which  was  carefully  aimed  in  the  direction  of,  and  a 
little  over,  the  meat.  The  next  morning  tracks  were  seen  all 
about  the  place,  but  meat,  string,  and  gun  were  untouched. 
The  second  morning  I  found  the  meat  gone  and  the  string 
bitten  off.  The  meat  had  been  dragged  six  inches  toward  the 
gun,  as  shown  by  the  mark  it  made  in  the  loose  alkaline  soil^ 
and  the  string  was  slack.  The  gun  had  not  been  discharged. 
I  renewed  the  meat  and  reset  the  gun,  and  the  third  night  I 
heard  the  report  of  the  gun  in  the  night.  It  was  moonlight 
and  I  went  to  the  spot  as  quickly  as  possible,  but  as  no  dead 
wolves  were  to  be  found  I  left  matters  till  morning  when  I 
found  that  the  operation  of  the  previous  night  had  been  repeated, 
but  that  by  some  accident  the  string  had  been  pulled  and  the 
gun  discharged,  probably  without  injury  to  the  animal,  as  the 
string  now  lay  out  of  range.  I  continued  for  several  nights  to 
repeat  the  experiment  with  somewhat  varying  results,  but  did 
not  succeed  in  killing  any  wolves.      The  tracks   showed  that  on 


Intuitive  Perception.  i  5  3 

the  first  night  they  had  traversed  the  length  of  the  string  and 
around  the  gun,  evidently  exploring  the  situation  thoroughly 
and  acting  upon  the  knowledge  they  possessed. 

Quite  recently  I  have  had  an  almost  equally  interesting  ex- 
perience in  trying  to  entrap  a  wary  rat  that  found  its  way  into 
my  cellar.  After  my  most  ingenious  devices  had  failed  and  I 
had  nearly  given  up  the  attempt,  I  succeeded,  as  it  would  seem, 
by  very  lack  of  precaution,  the  animal  perhaps  going  to  the 
length  of  supposing  that  nothing  that  I  made  no  attempt  to 
conceal  could  be  attended  with  danger. 

The  faculty  of  cunning  or  sagacity  manifests  itself  in  a  variety 
of  modes  depending  on  the  animal,  the  circumstances,  etc.,  and 
language  seeks  to  express  these  by  numerous  words  with  dif- 
ferent shades  of  meaning.  The  terms  most  commonly  applied 
to  animals,  most  of  them  also  applicable  to  men,  are  :  sly,  art- 
ful, knowing,  wily,  crafty,  subtle,  adroit,  etc.,  besides  the  regular 
adjectives  cunning  and  sagacious.  The  general  homogeneity, 
however,  of  all  these  terms  is  obvious,  and  the  central  idea 
which  they  embody  is  that  of  indirection.  They  have  a  com- 
mon object,  that  of  successful  effort  to  satisfy  desire,  and  a 
common  method,  that  of  taking  advantage  of  perceived  relations. 
But  the  intellectual  act  is  simple,  and  may  at  this  stage  be  called 
intuitive  perception. 

It  may  now  be  studied  at  a  slightly  more  advanced  stage,  as 
manifested  by  man.  Without  wishing  to  imply  that  there  is 
any  generic  difference  between  animal  and  human  intuition, 
but  merely  in  deference  to  the  prevailing  opinion  that  man  is 
especially  a  rational  being,  I  will  call  the  latter  intuitive  reason.^ 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

INTUITIVE    REASON. 

Under  the  law  of  Natural  Selection,  everything  is  an  advantage  which 
serves  to  protect  individuals  from  destruction  from  outer  enemies,  both 
organic  and  inorganic,  or  which  enables  them  better  to  secure  the  means 
of  subsistence.  A  race  of  large  apes  living  in  the  vast  forests  of  Central 
Africa  or  tropical  Asia,  where  lions,  tigers,  leopards,  and  many  other  large 
and  ferocious  carnivora  abound,  would  be  the  constant  prey  of  these  beasts, 
and  especially  liable  to  have  their  young  carried  off  and  devoured,  thus 
rendering  the  e.xistence  of  the  species  precarious.  Lacking  most  of  the 
means  of  defense,  as  well  as  of  escape  necessary  to  prevent  destruction 
from  such  creatures,  the  only  substitute  possible  for  these  is  increased 
sagacity  or  cunning  in  outwitting  their  enemies.  But  increased  sagacity 
can  only  come  of  increased  brain-mass  in  relation  to  size  of  body.  These 
creatures  must  have  constantly  found  themselves  "  put  to  their  wits'  end  " 
to  devise  means  of  preventing  such  attacks,  and  \\t  seem  fully  justified  in 
supposing  that,  from  the  recurrence  of  such  efforts,  in  which  bodily  effi- 
ciency was  not,  and  mental  efficiency  was,  solely  relied  on,  the  development 
of  the  cerebral  lobes  went  on  rapidly  under  the  law  of  direct  adaptation. 
But,  from  the  increased  protection  thus  rendered  both  to  adults  and  to 
offspring,  the  number  of  the  latter  enabled  to  survive  was  increased,  and 
these  inherited  the  increased  brain-power  of  their  parents,  and  again  trans- 
mitted it,  with  an  additional  increment,  to  their  offspring. 

In  addition  to  this  negative  influence,  which  was  perhaps  the  strongest, 
there  was  also  the  positive  influence  e.xerted  in  the  same  direction  in  the 
struggles  of  these  creatures  for  the  means  of  subsistence.  The  discon- 
tinuance of  their  arboreal  habits  put  a  vast  amount  of  their  natural  food 
beyond  their  reach.  The  rich  nuts  that  hung  from  the  branches  of  tall 
trees,  the  dates  and  other  delicious  fruits  of  the  palm,  the  plantain,  and 
the  banana,  must  now  be  watched  till,  ripened  by  time,  they  fall  to  the 
ground,  if  hapi)ily  the  lesser  monkeys,  the  squirrels,  and  the  bears  have  not 
already  devoured  them  all.  These  losses  must  be  made  up.  This  can 
only  be  done  by  increased  cunning;  and  here,  again,  the  direct  impulse 
to  further  brain-development  is  exerted.  From  these  two  influences  acting 
in  the  same  direction,  aided  by  natural  selection,  the  entire  amount  of 
cerebral  increase,  with  its  corresponding  cranial  enlargement,  necessary 
to  bridge  over  the  chasm  between  the  true  ape  and  the  true  man,  between 


Intuitive  Reason.  1 5  5 

the  highest  animal  and  the  lowest  human  brain,  can  be  readily  accounted 
for  without  exceeding  the  time-limits  within  which  geology  requires  this 
differentiation  to  have  taken  place.  —  Dynamic  Sociology,  I,  428-429. 

Diesen  letzten  Schritt  in  der  Ausdehnung  und  Vervollkommnung  des 
Gehirns,  und  damit  in  der  Erhdhung  der  Erkenntnisskrafte,  thut  die  Natur, 
wie  alle  iibrigen,  bloss  in  folge  der  erhohten  Bediirfnisse,  also  zum  Dienste 
des  Willens.  Was  dieser  im  Menschen  bezweckt  und  erreicht,  ist  zwar  im 
Wesentlichen  dasselbe  und  nicht  mehr,  als  was  auch  im  Thiere  sein 
Ziel  ist :  Ernahrung  und  Fortpflanzung.  Aber  durch  die  Organisation  des 
Menschen  wurden  die  Erfordernisse  zur  Erreichung  jenes  Ziels  so  sehr 
vermehrt,  gesteigert  und  specificirt,  dass,  zur  Erreichung  des  Zwecks,  eine 
ungleich  betrachtlichere  Erhohung  des  Intellekts,  als  die  bisherigen  Stufen 
darboten,  nothwendig,  oder  wenigstens  das  leichteste  Mittel  war.  Da  nun 
aber  der  Intellekt,  seinem  Wesen  zufolge,  ein  "Werkzeug  von  hochst  viel- 
seitigem  Gebrauch  und  auf  die  verschiedenartigsten  Zwecke  gleich  anwend- 
bar  ist  ;  so  konnte  die  Natur,  ihrem  Geist  der  Sparsamkeit  getreu,  alle 
Forderungen  der  so  mannigfach  gewordenen  Bediirfnisse  nunmehr  ganz 
allein  durch  ihn  decken.  —  Schopexhauer  :    Wcit  als  IVi/lc,  II,  316-317. 

For  then  they  glorie,  then  they  boaste,  and  cracke  that  they  haue  plaied 
the  men  in  deede,  when  they  haue  so  ouercommen,  as  no  other  liuing 
creature  but  onely  man  could  :  that  is  to  saye,  by  the  mighte  and  puisaunce 
of  wit.  For  with  bodily  strength  (say  they)  beares,  lions,  boores,  wulfes, 
dogges,  and  other  wild  beastes  do  fight.  And  as  the  moste  part  of  them 
do  passe  vs  in  strength  and  fierce  courage,  so  in  wit  and  reason  we  be  much 
stronger  than  they  all^  —  Thomas   More  :    Utopia,  pp.  133-134. 

If  persons  are  helped  in  their  worldly  career  by  their  virtues,  so  are  they, 
and  perhaps  quite  as  often,  by  their  vices  :  by  servility  and  sycophancy, 
by  hard-hearted  and  close-fisted  selfishness,  by  the  permitted  lies  and  tricks 
of  trade,  by  gambling  speculations,  not  seldom  by  downright  knavery.  — 
John  Stuart  Mill  :    Chapters  on  Socialism. 

L'esprit  est  toujours  la  dupe  du  coeur.  —  La  Rochefoucauld  :  Maxit/ie 
102. 

While  cunning  and  sagacity  are  attributes  of  both  animals 
and  men,  shrewdness  and  tact  are  generally  limited  to  the  latter. 
They  represent  a  somewhat  higher  stage  of  development  of  the 
same  faculty  of  mind.  They  are  usually,  though  not  necessarily, 
applied  to  human  acts  that  relate  to  sustentation,  especially  in 


156  Objective  Factors. 

its  derivative  forms.  The  jnirsuit  of  subsistence,  which  is 
direct  in  animals  and  the  lowest  human  types,  early  becomes 
indirect  in  the  social  state.  Instead  of  pursuing,  seizing  and 
devouring  prey,  or  searching,  finding,  and  eating  the  vegetable 
products  of  the  earth,  man  soon  acquired  the  habit  of  seeking 
opportunities  for  securing  permanent  supplies  of  subsistence,  a 
step  which  is  indeed  taken  through  the  aid  of  instincts  by  many 
animals.  But  with  man  in  the  social  state,  however  primitive, 
foresight  was  exercised,  which  is  itself  a  form  of  the  intuitive 
faculty,  and  the  habit  of  vl\?^C\x\%  provision  for  the  future  arose. 
This  had  the  immediate  effect  to  render  his  wants  unlimited  by 
his  immediate  appetite.  The  consequence  was  that  his  desire 
for  the  means  of  subsistence,  instead  of  being  periodical,  became 
continous  and  the  pursuit  of  this  end  was  incessant.  Other 
collateral  wants  also  arose  as  the  necessary  concomitants  of 
social  existence,  especially  in  varying  degrees  those  of  clothing 
and  shelter.  A  crude  esthetic  sentiment  must  have  also  been 
very  early  developed,  for  no  tribe  of  savages  has  yet  been  found 
so  low  as  not  to  be  fond  of  ornaments,  however  grotesque,  and 
where  clothing  was  not  needed  decorations  were  demanded  and 
sought  with  zeal.  Other  objects  of  desire  multiplied  them- 
selves and  their  possession  became  an  end  of  effort.  Slowly 
the  notion  of  property  came  into  being  and  in  acquiring  this, 
as  history  shows,  the  larger  share  of  all  human  energy  has  been 
absorbed.  The  ruling  passion  has  from  a  time  long  anterior  to 
any  recorded  annals  always  been  proprietary  acquisition.  Pari 
passu  with  the  development  of  this  passion  there  also  proceeded 
the  development  of  that  faculty  which  was  most  potent  in 
securing  its  gratification.  Both  the  passion  and  the  means  of 
satisfying  it  were  conditions  to  the  development  of  society  itself, 
and  rightly  viewed  they  have  also  been  leading  factors  in  civiliza- 
tion. But  here,  as  man  must  cope  with  man,  a  struggle 
went  on  similar,  only  on  a  higher  intellectual  plane,  to  that 
which  goes  on  in  the  animal  world,  a  veritable  struggle  for 
existence. 


Intuitive  Reason.  157 

In  this  great  struggle  brute  force  played  a  diminishing  part, 
and  mind  an  increasing  one.  Low  cunning  and  animal  sagacity, 
though  very  jDrominent,  were  more  and  more  supplanted  by 
more  refined  and  subtle  manifestations  of  the  same  psychic 
principle.  This  advance  was  greatly  accelerated  by  the  growth 
of  institutions  and  the  establishment  of  codes  of  conduct  requi- 
site to  life  in  collectivity.  The  rude  animal  methods  were 
intolerable,  and  by  natural  selection,  if  not  otherwise,  society 
discarded  them.  Something  less  objectionable  and  more  refined 
must  control  the  relations  of  men  in  the  social  state.  But 
while  social  regulation  grew  stronger  human  acquisitiveness 
strengthened  also.  With  the  legal  protection  of  property  its 
desirability  increased  and  every  art  was  resorted  to  in  the  uni- 
versal effort  to  obtain  it.  No  combination  can  be  conceived  of 
better  calculated  to  call  out,  develop,  and  perfect  a  mental 
faculty  than  the  prizes  and  temptations  of  the  social  state. 

In  Dynamic  Sociology  (Chap.  VII,  Vol.  I,  pp.  497-597) 
I  have  discussed  somewhat  exhaustively  the  law  and  the 
various  modes  of  acquisition  that  prevail  in  the  social  world. 
At  present  it  is  only  the  peculiar  principle  involved  in  all  this 
that  it  is  sought  to  detect.  The  faculty  of  intuitive  perception 
which  was  seen  to  prevail  in  the  higher  animals  has  now 
adapted  itself  to  man,  to  society,  and  to  regulative  institutions. 
The  pursuit  of  subsistence  has  become  the  pursuit  of  the 
vicajis  of  subsistence,  and  of  enjoyment  in  general.  Animal 
activity  has  become  industrial  activity,  and  the  general  term 
applied  to  industrial  activity  is  busijiess.  The  great  aim  and 
object  of  life  is  success  in  business.  Social  regulation  renders 
the  animal  methods  unsuccessful  and  human  methods  are  the 
ones  chiefly  employed.  But  the  psychic  principle  remains  the 
same. 

To  mere  subsistence,  i.  e.,  just  so  much  as  is  necessary  to 
life,  considered  as  the  end  of  effort,  there  must  now  be  added 
a  great  number  of  things  that  are  not  required  for  that  end. 
Everyone  knows  how  in  legal  interpretation  the  word  "neces- 


158  Objective  Factors. 

sarics"  has  expanded,  and  how  it  is  varied  even  in  the  same 
country  according  to  the  social  standing  of  the  individual. 
Hut  while  things  that  were  not  necessary  in  one  age  become  so 
in  another,  and  those  not  necessary  for  one  class  are  considered 
necessary  for  another,  there  are  innumerable  objects  which  no 
law  will  declare  necessaries  that  are  nevertheless  desired  even 
more  strongly  than  many  that  are  really  necessary  to  life  — 
luxuries,  refinements,  indulgences.  An  immense  number  of 
new  desires  unknown  in  the  lower  stages  were  created  by 
social  existence  and  civilized  life.  These  include  all  those 
enumerated  in  Chapters  IX  and  X,  and  many  not  mentioned 
there.  Besides  the  heightened  and  intensified  forms  of  the 
love  of  acquisition  growing  out  of  the  struggle  to  preserve  life, 
there  had  been  developed  the  higher  desires  to  which  the 
reproductive  instincts  gave  rise,  including  the  passion  of  individ- 
ual love,  and  the  emotions  arising  through  family  relation- 
ships. Add  to  these  the  esthetic,  moral,  and  intellectual 
cravings,  all  vehemently  asserting  themselves  and  demanding 
satisfaction. 

The  indirect  method  which  best  insured  success  in  business 
is  perhaps  most  frequently  expressed  by  the  word  sJirczudness. 
The  relations  perceived  are  more  numerous  and  complicated 
than  those  for  which  cunning  is  sufficient.  They  are  largely 
the  acts  of  men  and  presuppose  a  knowledge  of  human  nature. 
It  is  astonishing  to  observe  how  little  the  majority  really  know 
of  human  nature  and  how  easy  it  is  to  take  advantage  of  this 
general  ignorance.  The  prevailing  optimism  is  the  chief  ele- 
ment that  blinds  most  persons  in  these  matters,  and  acts,  which 
to  the  good  observer  are  obviously  done  from  purely  selfish 
motives,  are  so  done  as  to  produce  the  general  belief  in  their 
complete  disinterestedness.  This  explains  the  surprising  gul- 
libility of  the  general  public,  so  obvious  that  it  is  common  to 
speak  of  an  actual  "love  of  humbug."  A  great  part  of  all  that 
is  said  and  <l()iic  in  society  proceeds  from  this  self-interest  and 
requires    to   be    interpreted  _and    corrected    by    this    equation. 


hituitive  Reason.  159 

•Besides  the  suppress io  vert  and  siiggcstio  falsi,  there  are  all  the 
other  arts  of  speech  which  have  given  rise  to  the  French 
proverb,  that  language  was  given  us  to  conceal  our  thoughts.^ 
There  is  also  the  art  of  silence,  the  reticent,  non-committal 
mood.  It  is  often  true  from  the  standpoint  of  self-interest  that 
where  speech  would  be  silver  or  some  baser  metal,  silence  is 
golden.  Nothing  is  more  common  than  for  mediocre  persons 
to  possess  the  shrewdness  of  knowing  that  silence  will  gain 
them  a  reputation  for  wisdom.^  The  assumption  of  a  dignity 
they  do  not  possess  secures  to  many  what  volubility  would  de- 
prive them  of.  Such  persons,  while  they  may  really  know  very 
little,  know  this  one  thing  and  put  this  knowledge  to  the  best 
use.  This  suggests  the  important  fact  so  generally  overlooked 
by  the  modern  philosophers  who  argue  for  the  fullest  play  in 
society  of  the  law  of  natural  survival,  that  fitness  to  survive 
does  not,  as  they  maintain,  depend  upon  intelligence  but  upon 
shrewdness,  which  may  be  accompanied  with  very  little  in- 
telligence. It  is  the  faculty  which  we  are  considering  that  has 
at  its  various  stages  secured  success  in  life,  and  it  is  the  same 
that  insures  success  in  business  and  in  all  the  enterprises  of 
civilized  men.  It  is  an  entirely  different  thing  from  in- 
telligence, and,  except  in  one  of  its  phases,  hereafter  to  be  con- 
sidered, it  is  the  lowest  and  least  really  superior  attribute  of 
mind. 

Among  the  derivative  desires  that  have  grown  up  in  society 
the  most  powerful  is  doubtless  ambition.  This  was  especially 
developed  under  the  influence  of  government,  which  was  one 
of  the  earliest  of  human  institutions.      It  here  takes  the  form 

1  lis  ne  se  servent  de  la  pensee  que  pour  autoriser  leurs  injustices,  et  n'em- 
ploient  les  paroles  que  pour  deguiser  leurs  pensees.  —  Voltaire:  Dialogue  xiv. 
Le  Chapon  et  la  Poularde.    Qiuvres  Completes,  Vol.  XXXVI,  p.  loo. 

-  Stultus  tacebit  .■'  pro  sapiente  habebitur.  —  Publius  Syrus. 

(Let  a  fool  hold  his  tongue  and  he  will  pass  for  a  sage.  Lyman's  Translation, 
No.  914.  The  Moral  Sayings  of  Publius  Syrus,  from  the  Latin.  By  D.  Lyman, 
Jun.,  Cleveland,  1856.) 

Taciturnitas  stulto  homini  pro  sapientia  est. —  Publius  Syrus. 

(Taciturnity  is  the  dunce's  wisdom.     Lyman's  Translation,  No.  931.) 


t6o  Ohjcclivt   Facioi's. 

of  love  of  power  and  its  various  manifestations  have  played  a  . 
principal  role  in  the  history  of  man.  Coarse  and  simple  in 
despotic  governments,  therefore  making  little  use  of  the  in- 
direct method,  it  has  been  curbed  and  restricted  by  its  op- 
pressed victims  until  in  modern  md^-e  or*  less  representative 
governments  it  has  been  compelled  to  employ  this  method 
almost  exclusively.  It  is  an  excellent  illustration  of  the  prin- 
ciple now  under  consideration  on  account  of  the  great  number 
and  subtle  character  of  the  forms  it  has  assumed.  There  is  no 
better  subject  upon  which  to  exercise  the  pure  intellect  than 
what  is  called  a  people.  Unthinking  and  unorganized  they  are 
easily  managed  and  incapable,  except  in  extreme  cases,  of  per- 
ceiving the  motives  of  rulers,  still  less  of  acting  concertedly  to 
thwart  their  schemes.  The  astute  monarch  or  politician  always 
seeks  to  make  it  believed  that  he  is  acting  for  their  good,  and 
enough  will  usually  credit  him  to  prevent  the  action  of  the  re- 
mainder. The  politicians  and  demagogues  of  any  country  are 
simply  the  persons  who  combine  with  an  unscrupulous  love  of 
power  or  desire  for  emolument  from  the  public  revenues,  the 
highest  development  of  the  animal  side  of  the  intellect.  They 
are  the  ones  who,  from  the  strictly  biological  standpoint,  are  the 
fittest  to  survive  in  society.  Those  therefore  who  teach  sociol- 
ogy from  the  laws  of  biology  should  not  onl}'  treat  them  as  the 
highest  types  but  should  welcome  them  as  the  most  perfect 
examples  of  social  development.  It  is  thoroughly  inconsistent 
in  this  school  of  philosophers  to  denounce  this  class  as  they 
do,  since  if  there  are  any  who  deserve  to  be  here  and  to  be  let 
alone  they  are  the  ones. 

Different  from,  and  really  higher  than  the  tricky,  wire-pulling 
politician,  and  more  nearl)-  on  tlie  level  of  the  ambitious  but 
discreet  and  prudent  ruler  or  statesman,  is  the  successful 
diplomat.  Diplomacy  is  a  typical  form  of  the  original  in- 
tellectual faculty  in  one  of  its  highest  stages.  Whether  it  take 
the  shape  of  Machiavellian  intrigue  and  disregard  of  truth  and 
principle,  or  be  conducted  honorably  and  with  patriotic  motives. 


Intuitive  Reason.  i6i 

it  involves  intuitive  penetration  of  a  high  order  and,  ably  em- 
ployed, proves  one  of  the  greatest  elements  of  national  success 
and  safety.  It  need  not  be  said  that  diplomacy  is  also  ex- 
tensively practiced  by  individuals  in  all  the  minor  affairs  of  life. 

One  other  application  of  this  principle  may  profitably  be 
mentioned.  The  encroachment  of  tribe  upon  tribe,  and  the 
desire  of  the  ruling  class  to  extend  territorial  boundaries,  made 
war  one  of  the  first  concomitants  of  the  social  condition,  and  it 
continues  to  be  a  leading  feature  of  human  history.  Although 
depending  chiefly  on  brute  force  it  soon  called  in  the  aid  of  in- 
tellectual direction.  The  particular  form  which  this  here 
assumed  goes  by  the  name  of  strategy.  The  effect  of  numbers, 
bravery,  and  superior  weapons  may  be  greatly  increased  by 
judicious  selection  in  the  time  and  method  of  attack.  When 
an  inferior  army  out-generals  and  defeats  a  superior  one,  it  is 
because  mind  has  been  at  work,  and  the  quality  of  mind  by 
which  the  result  has  been  attained  is  precisely  the  one  that 
secures  success  in  business,  in  politics,  or  in  diplomacy. 
Shrewdness,  tact,  policy,  demogogy,  diplomacy,  strategy,  are 
only  so  many  applications  of  the  one  principle,  only  so  many 
varying  manifestations  of  the  primary  intellectual  faculty  under 
correspondingly  changed  circumstances. 

If  the  name  intuitive  perception  may  appropriately  be  given 
to  those  manifestations  of  this  faculty  in  animals  and  the  lower 
types  of  men,  that  of  intuitive  reason  will  properly  apply  to  the 
more  involved  process  which  accomplishes  the  same  purposes 
in  the  higher  types  of  men  when  dealing  with  the  complicated 
conditions  that  society  creates.  It  is  still  a  perception  of  re- 
lations, chiefly  of  resistance  and  direction,  but  the  relations  are 
more  remote  and  obscure,  more  complex  and  recondite,  and  not 
only  must  the  degree  of  penetration  be  much  greater  but  the 
tortuous  avenues  through  which  it  is  necessary  to  jDcer,  prolong 
somewhat  the  act  of  intuitive  vision  and  raise  it  to  the  grade  of 
a  sort  of  reasoning  process  which  justifies  a  new  name,  pro- 
vided the  central  truth  be  not  lost  from  view  that  the  difference 
is  wholly  one  of  degree  and  not  at  all  of  kind. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

PRINCIPLE    OF   DECEPTION. 

This  law  [the  principle  of  deception]  arises  with  the  development  of  the 
intellectual  faculty,  and,  properly  viewed,  it  constitutes  the  essential  form  in 
which  that  faculty  everywhere  manifests  itself,  although  this  truth  is  masked 
by  the  great  variety  existing  among  the  objects  toward  which  intellectual 
operations  are  directed. — Dynamic  Sociology^  I,  501. 

The  normal  operations  of  the  intellect,  as  distinguished  from  those  of  the 
emotions,  and  whereby  it  accomplishes  so  much  greater  results,  are  essen- 
tially of  this  character,  so  that  it  may  be  said  that  iiivetition  is  deception. 
By  it  the  forces  of  nature  are  ensnared  and  circumvented.  Language  itself 
enforces  this  truth.  The  methods  of  art  are  ariijices,  and  its  mode  of  pro- 
cedure is  ai'tful.  Machines  are  machinations.  Primitive  man  had  early 
to  learn  that  to  live  he  must  deceive,  and,  although  this  principle  has  never 
found  expression  in  any  code  of  ethics,  it  has  found  unceasing  application 
throughout  history. — Dynamic  Sociology,  I,  502. 

Notwithstanding  the  fine  array  of  maxims  so  constantly  quoted  to  en- 
courage honesty  in  the  mutual  dealings  of  individuals,  scarcely  a  transaction 
is  ever  consummated  without  some  form  of  deception  having  been  practiced. 
What  is  understood  as  the  ability  to  "  drive  a  bargain  "  is  nothing  more  or 
less  than  a  certain  species  of  cunning,  in  making  the  facts  appear  in  some 
way  different  from  what  they  are,  whereby  others  are  somewhat  deceived 
and  beguiled  into  paying  for  an  article,  perhaps  not  more  than  it  is  worth, 
but  more  than  they  otherwise  would  have  done.  It  may  not  be  too  much 
to  say  tliat  very  few  dealers  who  gain  their  livelihood  in  trade  can  afford  to 
be  strictly  honest  in  all  things  according  to  the  received  standards  of  honesty. 
It  is  a  fair  subject  for  doubt  whether  such  a  course  would  not  in  many  cases 
be  ruinous  to  their  interests  .  .  .  Every  one  expects  every  one  else  to 
practice  a  certain  amount  of  wliat  is  thought  by  each  in  his  own  case  to  be 
justifiable  deception,  and  one  who  should  fail  to  do  so  would  scarcely  be 
adjudged  po.sse.ssed  of  the  full  complement  of  intellectual  powers,  or,  as  it 
is  called,  wits.  For  so  insensibly  does  open  falsehood  shade  off  into  the 
mere  exercise  of  the  normal  degree  of  intelligence  that  no  absolute  line  of 
demarkation  can  be  drawn.  —  Dynamic  Sociology,  I,  51 1-5 12. 

Complete  truthfulness  is  one  of  the  rarest  of  virtues.  Even  those  who 
regard  themselves  as  absolutely  truthful  are  daily  guilty  of  over-statements 


Prmciple  of  Deception.  163 

and  of  under-statements.  Exaggeration  is  almost  universal.  The  perpetual 
use  of  the  word  "  very,"  where  the  occasion  does  not  call  for  it,  shows  how 
widely  diffused  and  confirmed  is  the  habit  of  misrepresentation.  And  this 
habit  sometimes  goes  along  with  the  loudest  denunciations  of  falsehood.  — 
Herbert  Spencer  :  Principles  of  Ethics^  I,  p.  400, 

L'hypocrisie  est  un  hommage  que  le  vice  rend  a  la  vertu.  —  La  Roche- 
foucauld :  Maxiine  218. 

Nos  vertus  ne  sont  le  plus  souvent  que  des  vices  deguises.  —  La  Roche- 
foucauld. 

Ce  que  le  monde  nomme  vertu  n'est  d'ordinaire  qu'un  fantome  forme  par 
nos  passions,  a  qui  on  donne  un  nom  honnete  pour  faire  impunement  ce 
qu'on  veut.     Ibid. 

And,  after  all,  what  is  a  lie  ?  'Tis  but 
The  truth  in  masquerade  ;  and  I  defy 
Historians,  heroes,  lawyers,  priests,  to  put 
A  fact  without  some  leaven  of  a  lie. 

BvRON  :  Don  Ji(an,  Canto  xi.  Stanza  37. 

It  cannot  have  escaped  the  inteUigent  reader  that  there  is  in- 
volved in  all  the  mental  acts  discussed  in  the  last  two  chapters 
a  form  of  deception,  and  that  this  constitutes  the  kernel  of  the 
matter  and  the  true  key  to  their  successfulness.  The  intuitive 
faculty,  so  far  as  it  has  been  hitherto  considered,  expends  itself 
chiefly  upon  sentient  beings  and  is  directed  to  securing  advan- 
tage to  the  agent  at  the  expense  of  other  feeling  creatures. 
As  no  feeling  creature  desires  this  to  happen  it  is  necessary 
that  the  act  be  performed  against  the  inclination  of  those  that 
are  the  losers  by  it.  These  latter  must  in  some  way  be  pre- 
vented from  knowing  what  its  effect  is  to  be,  otherwise  they 
would  resist  or  escape  it.  This  idea  lurks  in  all  such  words  as 
cunning,  crafty,  artful,  wily,  arch,  tricky,  sly,  astute,  designing, 
intriguing,  smart,  shrewd,  etc.  There  is  often  little  in  the 
etymology  of  a  word,  but  sometimes  it  well  illustrates  the 
history  of  an  idea.  The  word  s/irczud  is  a  good  example  of 
the  latter   case.      It  is   derived   from  s/irciu,  which   originally 


164  Objective  Factors. 

meant  a  wicked  or  evil  person,  sometimes  the  devil.  Its  early 
use  was  in  the  sense  of  evil  malignant,  or  malicious,  and  its 
present  milder  meaning  was  only  gradually  acquired.  The 
French  word  that  nearly  corresponds  to  it,  shows  its  origin  still 
more  clearly.  It  is  inalin.  The  American  use  of  the  word 
sjiuri-t,  which  is  nearly  the  same  as  the  English  clever,  seems  to 
have  arisen  from  the  original  sense  of  sharp,  cutting  or  pun- 
gent, qualities  which  produce  the  sensation  called  a  smart. 
.In  fact  the  word  s/ia7-p  applied  to  persons  is  rapidly  passing 
into  the  same  sense,  and  from  it  has  been  formed  the  deriva- 
tive noun  sharper  which  conveys  no  other  idea. 

The  cunning  of  the  fox  and  other  animals  is  chiefly  a  mode 
of  deceiving  the  creatures  that  constitute  their  prey.  In  such 
cases  the  animals  deceived  are  less  sagacious  than  those  that 
circumvent  and  capture  them,  but  the  mother  bird  that  feigns 
being  wounded  furnishes  an  instance  in  which  deception 
practiced  by  a  mentally  inferior  creature  is  often  successful 
against  the  cunning  of  a  mentally  superior  one.  In  fact  so 
much  is  deception  the  essence  of  the  principle  that  as  a  rule 
the  greater  the  deception  the  greater  the  success.^ 

'  Mr.  Spencer  in  the  excellent  treatment  of  the  subject  of  "  veracity"  which  he 
gives  in  Chapter  IX  of  the  first  volume  of  his  Principles  of  Ethics,  has  greatly 
strengthened  this  point  of  view  from  the  side  of  primitive  peoples.  He  seems 
somewhat  surprised  to  find  that,  though  not  according  to  any  fixed  rule,  the 
simpler  minded  hill  tribes  are  the  most  veracious,  and  the  more  intelligent  coast 
tribes  add  untruthfulness  to  their  other  vices.  He  even  shows  that  the  higher 
races,  including  his  own,  display  this  quality  to  a  shameful  degree,  especially  in 
their  dealings  with  inferior  ones.  All  this  is  what  should  be  expected  if  deception 
is  the  essential  element  in  intellectual  exercise.  This  is  clearly  brought  out  in  the 
case  of  the  people  of  Uganda  among  whom  "  a  successful  liar  is  considered  a 
smart,  clever  fellow";  of  the  Central  Americans  who  say  of  a  cheat:  "what  a 
clever  fellow"  ;  of  the  Philippine  Islanders  who  do  not  "appear  to  regard  lying 
as  a  sin,  but  rather  as  a  legitimate,  though  cunning,  convenience  "  ;  and  still  more 
clearly  from  the  opposite  point  of  view  by  the  Sowrahs,  who  "  do  not  know  how 
to  tell  a  lie.  They  are  not  sufficiently  civilized  to  be  alile  to  invent";  while  "a 
Mahar  [Parwari]  is  such  a  fool  that  he  will  tell  the  truth  without  any  reason 
at  all." 

In  seeking  U>x  the  cause  wliich  determines  the  relative  veracity  of  races,  he 
arrives  at  the  conclusion  "that  it  is  tiie  jjresence  or  absence  of  despotic  rule  which 


Principle  of  Deception.  165 

In  the  various  modes  of  acquisition  pursued  by  men  in  the 
social  state  the  principle  of  deception  plays  an  important  role. 
The  powerful  influence  of  the  optimistic  habit  of  thought, 
which  is  the  latest  form  of  the  primitive  illusion  of  the  desires, 
or  assertion  of  the  will,  blinds  nearly  everyone  to  the  great 
prevalence  of  deception  among  civilized  men,  and  makes  the 
unthinking  masses  easy  victims  to  the  smaller  class  who  learn 
to  depend  upon  this  method  for  improving  their  condition. 
The  almost  universal  end  pursued  by  men  is  riches,  wealth, 
property,  competency,  or  by  whatever  name  it  may  be  called. 
Poverty  has  become  a  disgrace  and  is  so  feared  and  dreaded 
that  any  means  of  avoiding  it  will  be  resorted  to.  Therefore 
those  who  have  little  or  nothing  exhaust  every  resource  to 
make  it  appear  that  they  have  all  they  desire.  In  fact  it  may 
be  remarked  here,  that  notwithstanding  the  carnival  of  desires 
that  is  held  inside  of  every  human  being,  very  little  of  it  all 
comes  into  view  on  account  of  the  systematic  deception  con- 
stantly practiced  to  prevent  its  observance.  No  one  wants 
others  to  .know  that  he  is  suffering,  especially  that  he  has 
wants  that  he  cannot  supply,  and  therefore  those  that  one 
meets  who  seem  to  be  fairly  swimming  in  an  cvibarras  dc 
ricJiesses  may  be  at  the  same  moment  in  the  very  throes  of 
agony  which  they  adroitly  conceal.  It  is  not  always  want, 
poverty,  or  impecuniosity.  It  may  be  domestic  trouble,  shame 
over  some  act  known  to  be  against  the  accepted  social  code, 
fear  of  detection  in  something  that  would  be  ruin  if  found  out. 

leads  to  prevalent  falsehood  or  prevalent  truth,"  and  shows  with  considerable 
force  that  lying  is  a  normal  result  of  intimidation  and  abuse,  as  is  well  illustrated 
by  the  East  African  slaves  of  whom  Livingstone  says  :  "  One  can  scarcely  induce 
a  slave  to  translate  anything  truly  :  he  is  so  intent  on  thinking  of  what  will 
please."  I  was  struck  by  the  same  fact  among  the  freedmen  of  the  South  at 
the  close  of  the  civil  war  wliicii  resulted  in  their  emancipation.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  liberty  inspires  truthfulness  as  it  inspires  other  manly  qualities,  while 
slavery  and  tyranny  are  generally  demoralizing.  But  this  only  goes  to  prove  that 
deception  in  every  form  is  resorted  to  as  an  instrument  of  protection  from  danger, 
and  is  the  normal  and  legitimate  exercise  of  the  primal  intellect  which  was 
developed  for  no  other  purpose. 


1 66  Objective  Factors. 

The  general  concealment  of  emotion  of  every  kind  belongs  to 
this  category.  The  display  of  feeling  is  a  mark  of  weakness 
and  tells  against  success.  The  feigning  of  indifference  to 
everything  is  found  to  be  policy.  One  who  seems  dejected  is 
classed  as  deficient.  It  is  human  nature  to  lift  the  strong,  and 
neglect  or  crush  the  weak.  This  seems  a  strong  indictment 
but  it  is  true.  Upon  what  basis  does  it  rest }  Doubtless  it  is 
vaguely  felt  that  failure  is  the  result  of  inferiority.  One  who 
cannot  gain  a  livelihood  is  assumed  to  lack  the  requisites  of 
personal  character  for  doing  so.  No  one  wishes  to  expend 
energy  on  anything  that  is  unworthy.  The  possession  of  a 
fair  share  of  this  world's  goods  has  come  to  be  the  general 
mark  and  measure  of  character.  Carrying  it  a  step  further 
back,  since  it  is  a  certain  mental  quality  that  succeeds  in 
obtaining  and  retaining  wealth,  it  is  evident  that  it  is  this 
quality  that  is  popularly  taken  as  the  criterion  of  worth. 
There  is  an  instinctive  feeling  that  the  intuitive  faculty  which 
insures  success  is  the  one  great  element  of  value  in  human 
character,  and  it  is  respected  accordingly. 

It  is  this  attitude  of  the  mind  toward  the  exercise  of  these 
mental  qualities  that  has  enabled  them  to  take  an  even  more 
]5rominent  place  in  social  life  than  they  had  in  pre-social  or 
subhuman  life.  Joined  with  the  prevailing  credulity,  gullibility, 
and  optimistic  acquiescence,  they  grew  in  civilized  man  with 
unprecedented  exuberance.  The  consequence  is  that  the  whole 
fabric  of  society  is  honeycombed  with  deception.  Life  in 
separate  houses,  rendering  social  contact  onlv  possible  under 
circumstances  favorable  to  concealment,  favors  and  fosters  this 
tendency.  It  has  often  been  observed  that  where  men  formerly 
dwelling  in  the  same  community  are  by  force  of  circumstances 
compelled  to  come  out  of  their  civilized  habits  and  associate 
more  in  a  state  of  nature  so  that  all  their  acts  and  thoughts 
are  exposed,  their  true  character  thus  revealed  is  found  to  be 
entirely  different  from  what  it  had  been  supposed  to  be. 
I  made  a  study  of  this  when  in  the  army,  camping  and  fightmg 


Principle  of  Deception.  167 

on  a  level  with  my  townsmen  who  occupied  very  different  social 
stations  at  home.  While  some  who  stood  at  the  bottom  of  the 
social  ladder  were  seen  to  possess  unexpected  sterling  qualities, 
others  who  had  been  rated  highest  proved  poltroons  and  cow- 
ards, while  still  others  of  the  latter  class  turned  out  sniveling 
grumblers.  Under  the  far  more  trying  circumstances  of  great 
hardship,  suffering,  and  danger  the  golden  grains  of  character 
are  still  more  searchingly  sifted  from  the  dust.  In  civilized  life 
this  cannot  be  done,  and  what  we  see  on  the  surface  is  no  indica- 
tion of  that  which  really  exists.  Any  word,  look,  or  act  is 
likely  to  be  a  feint.  Everywhere  there  is  artifice,  counterfeit, 
simulation,  disguise,  sham,  and  imposture.  This,  where  special 
opportunity  permits,  takes  the  more  open  and  offensive  forms 
of  fraud,  trickery,  swindling,  quackery,  charlatanism,  humbug, 
and  jugglery.  While  these  practises  go  on  only  in  a  mild  form 
with  the  great  mass  of  mankind  they  assume  a  malignant  form 
with  a  large  and  ever  present  minority.  These  constitute  the 
parasitic  class  of  society,  those  who,  as  it  is  said,  live  by  their 
wits.  Social  institutions  favor  the  existence  of  such  a  class, 
and  they  are  the  ones  who  have  most  to  do  in  framing  and 
perpetuating  such  institutions.  There  is,  for  example,  scarcely 
a  doubt  that  if  nine  out  of  every  ten  members  of  the  legal  profes- 
sion were  eliminated  entirely  from  it  and  turned  into  some  useful 
occupation  the  ends  of  justice  would  thereby  be  immensely  the 
erainer  and  thousands  of  laborers  would  be  added  to  the  industrial 
pursuits.  But  this  is  the  class  whom  the  masses  intrust  with 
the  framing  of  their  laws,  and  as  long  as  they  continue  to  do 
so  they  must  pay  the  penalty  of  their  stupidity.  It  is  the  same 
in  the  whole  department  of  exchange,  although  here  intelligent 
cooperation  would  be  needed  to  insure  success.  The  other 
great  department  which  abounds  in  parasites  is  that  of  finance, 
including  the  innumerable  clever  schemes  for  gaining  wealth 
by  the  negotiation  of  all  kinds  of  paper.  But  this  by  no  means 
exhausts  the  list.  Witness  the  so-called  real  estate  "booms," 
stock-watering  schemes,  "rings,"  trusts,  combines,    "corners" 


1 68  Objective  Factoi's. 

in  «-rain.  railroad  "deals,"  and  st)  on  to  the  end.      In  fact  there 
would  be  no  stopping  until  all  monopolies  were  included. 

These  are  all  perfectly  legitimate  modes  of  acquisition  so 
long  as  we  consider  sociology  from  the  biological  standpoint  and 
admit  no  other  than  biological  dynamics  into  the  account.  It 
is  the  method  of  nature.  In  the  animal  world  there  is  no 
other.  There  it  is  called  the  survival  of  the  favored  races  in 
the  struggle  for  existence.  Here  it  is  called  the  law  of  com- 
petition. Animal  cunning  is  succeded  by  human  ingenuity  and 
intuitive  perception  becomes  intuitive  reason.  Both  belong  to- 
the  normal  and  primary  intellectual  faculty,  both  involve  the 
principle  of  deception  which  is  the  essence  of  the  process  em- 
ployed. It  is  due  to  the  biological  school  of  sociologists  to  say 
that  their  position  relative  to  this  industrial  parasitism,  if  it 
may  be  so  called,  unlike  that  relative  to  political  parasitism 
mentioned  in  the  last  chapter,  is  logical,  and  they  teach  that  it 
should  be  let  alone  and  allowed  to  take  its  course.  Those  who 
by  whatever  method  can  gain  most  of  the  world's  products  are 
those  fittest  to  survive  and  those  who  can  obtain  none  deserve, 
according  to  the  ethics  of  biology,  to  die.  The  worst  are 
thereby  weeded  out  of  society  and  the  best  preserved,  while  the 
exalted  faculty  which  makes  this  possible  is  still  more  highly 
developed. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

INTUITIVE    JUDGMENT. 

It  is  very  possible  for  impulses  and  intuitions  to  be  safer  than  the  most 
deliberate  judgment.  .  .  .  Everybody  knows  how,  on  many  great  political 
and  judicial  questions,  the  slow  detail  and  careful  technicality  of  legislators 
and  judges  do  violence  to  truth  and  justice,  while  the  public  mind  has  seen 
the  justice  of  the  case  from  the  first,  and  suffers  sore  disappointment  at  the 
manner  in  which  truth  has  been  smothered  under  the  forms  of  logic  and  of 
law.  —  Dynamic  Sociology^  II,  327. 

Only  a  very  small  proportion  of  our  actions  are  directed  to  new  condi- 
tions ;  experience  has  already  determined  the  proper  conduct  in  all  the 
circumstances  upon  which  our  preservation  and  well-being  most  directly 
depend  ;  and  action  in  these  circumtances  does  not  demand  comparison  and 
judgment,  while  it  must  usually  be  so  prompt  as  to  forbid  deliberation  or 
thought.  The  power  of  quick  and  proper  action  in  the  innumerable  exigen- 
cies of  ordinary  life,  independent  of  reflection,  is  at  least  equally  important 

with  the  power  to  extend  our  field  of  rational  action W.  K.  Brooks  : 

Popular  Science  Monthly,  June,  1879  (Vol.  XV,  pp.  154-155). 

Experience  of  the  order  of  events  has  shown  that  under  certain  circum- 
stances, of  frequent  occurrence,  certain  conduct  is  proper  and  conducive  to 
welfare,  while  its  opposite  is  hurtful.  This  experience  being  constantly 
repeated,  the  tendency  to  do  the  proper  thing  when  the  circumstances  occur 
gradually  takes  the  shape  of  an  instinct,  intuition,  habit,  or  law  of  duty. 
Hencefoward,  all  persons  who  have  the  impulse  which  has  thus  been  formed 
will  act  in  the  same  way  when  the  circumstances  arise,  but  two  persons  who 
have  not  the  impulse  will  follow  their  individual  judgments,  and  may  or  may 
not  act  alike.  —  W.  K.  Brooks  :  Ibid.,  July,  1S79,  p.  34S. 

It  is  necessary  to  deal  next  with  a  form  of  intuition  which 
differs  in  its  general  aspect  and  mode  of  application  much  more 
from  what  has  been  called  intuitive  reason  than  this  differs 
from  what  was  called  intuitive  perception,  although  it  is,  unlike 
the  others,  an  exclusively  human  attribute.  Nevertheless  it 
will,  I  trust,  be  shown  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  reader  that 


I70 


Objective  Factors, 


this  divergence  is  only  one  of  form  and  application  and  not  of 
essence.  Intuitive  judgment  does  not  differ  greatly  from  what 
is  probably  the  most  commonly  accepted  sense  of  the  word 
intuition.  If  primitive  animal  intuition,  intuitive  perception, 
and  intuitive  reason  consist  psychologically  in  a  perception  of 
relations,  however  simple  or  however  involved,  intuitive 
judgment  may  be  said  psychologically  to  consist  in  a  percep- 
tion of  truth.  Truth  itself,  it  may  be  said,  is  a  relation,  and  so 
it  is,  but  we  saw  that  the  relations  perceived  by  the  primitive 
intellect  were  not  those  of  identity,  agreement,  disagreement, 
etc.,  such  as  are  affirmed  by  an  act  of  judgment,  but  relations 
of  resistance,  direction,  velocity,  distance,  etc.  Intuitive 
judgment  does  not  deal  with  relations  of  this  latter  class,  or 
with  such  as  it  is  necessary  to  take  immediate  advantage  of  in 
guiding  present  movements.  It  is  much  less  directly  connected 
with  the  conative  powers,  and  approaches  more  closely  to  the 
derivative  intellectual  faculties  which  have  formed  the  almost 
exclusive  theme  of  philosophy.  And  yet  it  is  not  the  same  as 
any  of  these.  It  is  in  no  sense  a  deliberative,  reflective  faculty, 
or  one  of  abstraction  or  disinterested  ideation.  It  is  not,  for 
example,  as  some  have  supposed,  a  form  of  reasoning.  The 
idea  that  it  consists  of  the  rapid  or  instantaneous  combination 
of  a  long  train  of  inferences,  is  one  of  the  errors  which  have  re- 
sulted from  the  inverted  order  in  which  mental  phenomena 
have  been  studied,  from  beginning  at  the  roof  of  the  structure 
instead  of  at  the  ft)undations.  The  intellectual  faculties  that 
have  chiefly  absorbed  attention  are  all  secondary  or  derivative, 
and  it  was  natural  that  when  any  other  came  forward  for  consid- 
eration it  should  be  sought  to  explain  it  in  terms  of  these, 
whereas  in  this  case,  the  new-found  attribute  is  really  the  j^ri- 
mary  and  original  one  from  which  as  a  main  trunk  the  others 
have  been  given  off  as  branches. 

As  a  sami^le  of  this  mistake  of  the  loiricians  the  followinof 
remark  of  Bishop  Whately  may  be  quoted,  wliicli  might  be 
paralleled   in  the  writings  of  man)'  others  of  his   school.      He 


hituitive  Judgment.  171 

says  :  "  It  continually  happens  that  even  long  trains  of  reason- 
ing will  flash  through  the  mind  with  such  rapidity  that  the  pro- 
cess is  performed  unconsciously,  or  at  least  leaves  no  trace  in 
the  memory,  any  more  than  the  motions  of  the  muscles  of  the 
throat  and  mouth  in  speaking,  or  the  judgments  by  which  we 
decide  as  to  the  distances  of  visible  objects  :  so  that  a  conclu- 
sion may  be  supposed  to  be  seized  by  intuition,  which  in  reality 
is  the  result  of  rapid  inference."  (Logic,  Introduction,  §  4.) 
In  the  same  general  line  Dr.  Carpenter  remarks  :  "  I  have  long 
recognized  as  a  fact  that  judgments  really  grounded  on  a  long 
succession  of  small  experiences  mostly  forgotten,  or  perhaps 
never  brought  out  into  very  distinct  consciousness,  often  grow 
into  the  likeness  of  intuitive  perceptions.  I  believe  this  to  be 
the  explanation  of  the  intuitive  insight  thought  to  be  char- 
acteristic of  women  ;  and  of  that  which  is  often  found  in  ex- 
perienced practical  persons  who  have  not  attended  much  to 
theory,  nor  been  often  called  on  to  explain  the  grounds  of  their 
judgments.  I  explain  in  the  same  manner  whatever  truth  there 
is  in  presentiments."      (Mental  Physiology,  p.  486.) 

Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  in  arguing  for  the  simplicity  or  psy- 
chological unity  of  intuitional  judgments  (Principles  of  Psy- 
chology, Vol.  II,  §  277)  carries  it  perhaps  too  far  in  applying 
it  to  the  involved  judgments  of  an  engineer,  but  he  is  right  in 
saying  (ibid.  §  278,  foot-note)  that  the  common  acceptation  of 
the  word  intuition  is  that  of  "an  undecomposable  mental  act." 
It  will  not  be  denied  that  the  mental  antecedents  of  most  in- 
tuitions of  this  class  are  exceedingly  complex,  the  chief  con- 
tention is  that  the  mind  does  not  go  through  with  any  process 
of  connecting  these  elements  into  a  train  of  reasoning  or 
methodical  arrangement  of  separate  inferences.  It  is  in  no 
sense  a  process  of  deduction.  The  data  for  an  intuition  are 
combined  already  in  the  brain  into  a  psychological  unit  which 
is  used  as  an  integer  and  not  decomposed  by  the  intuitive  act. 
In  more  physiological  terms,  the  cerebral  preparation  for  such 
an  act  has  become  constitutional,  the  appropriate  cortical  nuclei 


1-2  Objective  Factors. 

have  been  previously  built  up  by  the  registration  of  experiences, 
and  the  discharge  is  direct  and  immediate  from  these  ready- 
made  centers. 

While  this  faculty  of  intuitive  judgment  is  adapted  and  is 
frequently  applied  to  questions  that  have  no  direct  bearing 
upon  self-preservation,  such  for  example  as  the  truth  of 
axiomatic  propositions  in  geometry  or  logic,  or  the  more 
complex  relations  of  strength  to  strain  in  engineering,  it  was 
not  by  such  exercise  that  its  cerebral  fabric  was  originally  built 
up.  These  are  only  derivative  applications  of  an  instrument 
which  was  constructed  for  a  very  different  purpose.  That  pur- 
pose, like  the  purpose  for  which  intuitive  perception  and  in- 
tuitive reason  were  created,  was  an  intensely  practical  one  and 
had  to  do  directly  with  the  interests  of  the  race  and  its  pre- 
servation and  safety.  The  other  forms  of  intuition  that  have 
been  considered  were  calculated  to  direct  action  in  the  im- 
mediate present  ;  this  form  was  adapted  to  direct  action  in  the 
near,  or  more  or  less  remote  future.  Besides  the  necessity  of 
knowing  what  course  to  pursue  to  secure  the  satisfaction  of  a 
present  desire,  it  became  important  to  know  what  course  it 
would  be  best  to  adopt  in  case  a  certain  combination  of  cir- 
cumstances should  arise.  At  first  such  combinations  of  cir- 
cumstances were  confined  to  those  that  were  known  from 
repeated  experience  to  be  likely  to  arise,  but  later  those  were 
provided  against  which  were  of  less  and  less  frequency  and 
probability,  and  at  length  a  degree  of  adjustment  was  attained 
which  would  constitute  a  preparation  for,  or,  defense  against 
almost  any  possible  combination  of  circumstances.  It  is  this 
primary  and  practical  side  of  the  subject  that  has  the  greatest 
significance  and  importance  to  both  jisychology  and  sociology. 
And  if  one  can  once  get  out  of  the  rut  of  the  old  philosophy, 
it  is  easy  to  see  that  this  is  the  side  which  furnishes  the  best 
and  most  numerous  examples. 

Men  do  not  depend  ujxju  their  reason  in  the  ordinary  affairs 
of  Hfe.     They  do  not  employ  the  syllogism  in  seeking  to  decide 


Intuitive  Jiidgment. 


I  J 


what  will  be  the  best  course  to  adopt  to  insure  success  in  any 
enterprise.  They  use  what  is  popularly  called  "  common 
sense,"  and  this  scarcely  differs  at  all  from  what  is  here  de- 
nominated intuitive  judgment.  One  finds  little  in  the  books 
about  common  sense.  When  used,  as  in  Reid's  works,  it  is 
soon  either  restricted  to  some  one  little  known  application  or 
diverted  wholly  from  its  primary  meaning.  The  most  that  has 
been  written  about  this  faculty  beyond  the  phase  to  be  con- 
sidered in  the  next  chapter  relates  to  cases  in  which,  as  fre- 
quently happens,  the  labored  reasoning  out  of  a  problem  leads 
to  erroneous  conclusions  which  are  seen  to  be  so  from  the  start 
by  pure  intuition.  Elaborate  judicial  opinions,  as  is  well 
known,  not  only  often  tend  to  obscure  the  subject,  but  actually 
befog  the  judge's  mind,  divert  it  from  the  central  notions  of 
justice  or  right  involved,  and  lead  him  to  decide  questions 
wrongly  where  the  truth  is  intuitively  arrived  at  by  others,  per- 
haps by  a  whole  people  in  great  issues,  such  as  the  Dred  Scott 
decision. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

FEMALE    INTUITION. 

It  is  proverbial  that  the  female  mind,  unaccustomed  as  it  is,  in  the  pres- 
ent slate  of  society,  to  reason  closely,  passes  to  correct  conclusions  in  many 
cases  where  the  logical  mind  of  man  misses  the  truth  after  tl:e  most  careful 
consideration.  —  Dynamic  Sociology,  II,  327. 

Looking  at  women  as  they  are  known  in  experience,  it  may  be  said  of 
them,  with  more  truth  than  belongs  to  most  generalizations  on  the  subject, 
that  the  general  bent  of  their  talents  is  toward  the  practical. — John 
Stuart  Mill:  Subjection  of  Women,  p.  105. 

If  the  female  organism  is  the  conserv^ative  organism,  to  which  is  intrusted 
the  keeping  of  all  that  has  been  gained  during  the  past  history  of  the  race, 
it  must  follow  that  the  female  mind  is  a  storehouse  filled  with  the  instincts, 
habits,  intuitions,  and  laws  of  conduct  which  have  been  gained  by  past 
experience.  The  male  organism,  on  the  contrary,  being  the  variable  organ- 
ism, the  originating  element  in  the  process  of  evolution,  the  male  mind 
must  have  the  power  of  extending  experience  over  new  fields,  and.  by 
comparison  and  generalization,  of  discovering  new  laws  of  nature,  which 
are  in  their  turn  to  become  rules  of  action,  and  to  be  added  on  to  the  series 
of  past  experiences.  —  W.  K.  Brooks  :  Popnla7-  Science  Monthly,  June, 
i879(Vol.  XV,  p.  154). 

I  use  the  expression  female  intuition  as  the  title  of  this 
chapter  in  preference  to  that  of  woman' s  inttiition,  because, 
while  it  is  of  course  chiefly  displayed  by  women,  I  believe  it 
has  its  roots  in  the  subhuman  stage,  and  that  woman's  in- 
tuitional nature  is  a  direct  outgrowth  of  the  earlier  and  simpler 
mental  characteristics  of  the  females  of  many  animals.  It 
should,  however,  be  admitted  that  there  is  scarcely  any  generic 
distinction  between  woman's  intuition  and  the  intuitive  judg- 
ment as  set  forth  in  the  preceding  chapter. 

The  impf)rtant  thing  to  be  noted  about  woman's  intuition 
from  the  modern  biological  standpoint  is  that  it  is  a  highly 
specialized    development    of    a    faculty    of    the    mind    which 


Female  Intuition. 


175 


originally  had  as  its  sole  purpose  the  protection  of  the  mother 
and  offspring.  It  is  a  part  of  the  maternal  instinct,  and  like 
all  instincts,  its  acuteness  and  subtlety  are  proportioned  to  the 
narrowness  of  its  purpose.  The  power  in  woman  of  instan- 
taneous and  accurate  judgment  as  to  what  to  do  when  her 
safety  or  that  of  her  children  is  in  jeopardy,  was  developed 
during  the  early  history  of  the  human  race  as  it  emerged  from 
the  animal  into  the  properly  human  state  ;  its  only  use  was  to 
protect  the  mother  and  the  young  from  such  dangers  as  beset 
them  —  dangers  which  increased  with  the  growth  of  the  intel- 
lectual faculty  and  the  dispersion  of  the  race  over  the  globe. 
And  with  the  origin  and  progress  of  civilization  this  power  has 
increased  in  complexity,  and  has  ever  been  the  safeguard  of 
the  family  against  all  attacks,  strifes,  and  abuses  from  whatever 
quarter.  In  the  highest  stages  of  enlightment  it  still  comes 
daily  and  hourly  into  use  in  guarding  the  virtue  of  woman, 
detecting  the  infidelity  of  man,  protecting  the  youth  of  both 
sexes  from  temptations  and  pitfalls  of  every  kind,  evading  the 
wrongs  of  unjust  husbands  and  cruel  fathers,  checking  danger- 
ous financial  extravagance  or  undue  liberality  in  men,  and  in 
a  thousand  other  ways.  Upon  such  questions  the  judgments 
of  women  are  already  formicd  in  the  mind,  inherited  as  organ- 
ized experiences  of  an  indefinite  past,  with  their  appropriate 
cortical  centers  of  nervous  discharge  constitutionally  developed 
in  the  brain  ;  so  that  when  an  occasion  arises  no  time  is  lost 
in  reflection  or  deliberation.  The  dangers  that  have  threatened 
woman  and  her  helpless  charges  throughout  all  history  have 
usually  left  her  no  time  for  these  slower  mental  operations. 
She  must  act  at  once  or  all  is  lost  ;  and  natural  selection  has 
preserved  those  who  could  thus  act,  so  that  in  modern  society 
it  is  still  true,  and  in  a  far  wider  sense  than  Addison  supposed, 

that 

"  The  woman  that  deliberates  is  lost." 

This  protective  quality  has  been  referred  to  by  some  authors. 
Mr.  Spencer  says  (Study  of  Sociology,  p.  376):  "In  barbarous 


1 76  Objective  Factors. 

times  a  woman  who  could  from  a  movement,  tone  of  voice, 
or  expression  of  face,  instantly  detect  in  her  savage  husband 
the  passion  that  was  rising,  would  be  likely  to  escape  dangers 
run  into  by  a  woman  less  skilled  in  interpreting  the  natural 
language  of  feeling.  Hence,  from  perpetual  exercise  of  this 
power,  and  the  survival  of  those  having  most  of  it,  we  may 
infer  its  establishment  as  a  feminine  faculty.  Ordinarily,  this 
feminine  faculty,  showing  itself  in  an  aptitude  for  guessing 
the  state  of  mind  through  the  external  signs,  ends  simply  in 
intuitions  formed  without  assignable  reasons  ;  but  when,  as 
happens  in  rare  cases,  there  is  joined  with  it  skill  in  psycho- 
logical analysis,  there  results  an  extremely  remarkable  ability 
to  interpret  the  mental  states  of  others." 

We  may,  however,  go  much  farther  back  in  attempting  to 
understand  female  intuition.  In  Chap.  XXII  it  was  shown 
that  the  intuitive  perception  acquired  by  animals  in  circum- 
venting others,  and  especially  that  of  the  males  in  coping 
with  others  of  their  own  species  in  their  rivalry  for  the  females, 
reacted  to  some  degree  upon  the  females  themselves  and  thus 
saved  this  attribute  of  mind  from  becoming  an  exclusively 
secondary  sexual  character.  It  was  also  pointed  out  that  in  a 
somewhat  modified  form  it  was  called  out  in  the  female  by  her 
constant  vigils  over  her  young.  This  latter  I  believe  to  be  the 
real  origin  of  the  more  fully  developed  female  intuition  now 
under  consideration,  and  as  already  remarked,  it  is  still  around 
the  offspring  that  it  chiefly  centers,  even  in  developed  woman. 

Its  essentially  feminine  character  is  exhibited  in  several 
ways.  It  is  a  leading  feminine  characteristic  to  be  always  on 
the  defensive.  The  great  end  of  female  action  is  protection. 
With  the  safety  of  the  future  members  of  the  race  in  her 
charge  the  mother  has  had  developed  a  mental  constitution 
which  is  ever  on  the  alert  to  perceive  and  ward  off  the  least 
danger.  She  never  takes  any  risks.  Non-seafaring  people 
often  notice  that  old  sea  captains  will  always  choose  the  safer 
of  two  courses,  e\-en  where  either  would  seem  to  be  perfectly 


Female  Intuition.  177 

secure,  and  at  first  this  apparent  timidity  does  not  seem  to  be  in 
harmony  with  the  known  intrepidity  of  these  hardy  mariners. 
But  it  results  from  a  settled  rule  of  life  always  to  choose  when 
at  sea  the  safest  way.  Now,  the  female  mind  possesses  this 
quality  of  caution  as  part  of  its  constitution,  and  it  applies  not 
merely  to  navigation  or  to  any  one  particularly  hazardbus 
employment,  but  to  everything  that  is  done.  No  matter  how 
secure  a  woman  may  be  under  any  circumstances  if  there  is 
any  difference  from  this  point  of  view  between  two  courses  of 
action  she  may  be  depended  upon  to  select  the  one  that  she 
regards  as  the  safer.  I  say,  that  she  regards  as  such,  because 
it  is  this  supposed  safety,  and  not  necessarily  her  real  safety, 
that  determines  her  action.  She  usually  bases  her  judgment 
on  experience,  and  hence  her  course  will  be  that  which  she  has 
formerly  pursued  and  found  to  be  safe.  Every  one  has 
observed  that  women  will  prefer  to  go  the  way  they  have 
already  been,  if  safe,  although  there  may  be  a  really  far  better 
but  untried  way,  and  usually  no  amount  of  argument  drawn 
from  the  experience  of  others  or  from  the  natural  circum- 
stances of  the  case  will  be  satisfactory  to  them.  This  mental 
constitution  of  the  female  mind  manifests  itself  in  all  the 
affairs  of  life.  Its  central  characteristic  is  extreme  conserva- 
tism. All  innovation  is  looked  upon  as  likely  to  be  attended 
with  danger.  Life  is  possible  under  existing  conditions,  and 
although  it  may  be  scarcely  worth  its  cost  it  is  better  than  to 
risk  a  change.  Thus  woman  becomes  the  balance-wheel  of 
society,  keeping  it  in  a  steady  and  fixed  condition  of  growth. 
It  is  for  this  work  that  woman's  intuition  is  adapted. 

It  might  be  supposed  from  this  essentially  conservative 
nature  of  woman  that  she  would  never  be  found  figuring  in 
the  capacity  of  a  reformer,  since  all  reform  implies  some 
change  in  the  existing  order.  The  well  known  facts,  there- 
fore, that  many  women  are  reformers,  that  many  reforms  are 
led  chiefly  by  women,  that  their  chief  argument  for  political 
power    is    based    on    the    claim    that    they    would    inaugurate 


i-jS  Objective  Factors. 

reforms  that  men  will  not  undertake,  and  that  in  the  capacity 
of  reformers  they  are  much  more  ardent  and  uncompromising 
than  men,  certainly  seem  inconsistent  with  the  position  here 
assumed.  But  I  think  it  can  be  shown  that  the  inconsistency 
is  only  apparent,  and  that  these  facts  are  reconcilable  with  true 
corfservatism.  Or  rather,  that  conservatism  does  not  alone 
describe  the  female  attribute  in  its  entirety.  Or  more  accu- 
rately still,  perhaps,  it  may  be  said  that  woman's  conservatism 
is  not  directed  toward  institutions  and  surrounding  conditions, 
but  is  centered  on  self  and  offspring.  It  is  self-preservation, 
rather  than  the  preservation  of  institutions  that  is  ingrained 
in  her  nature,  and  therefore  her  conservatism  is  limited  to 
those  institutions  which  she  believes  to  constitute  personal 
safeguards.  It  is  a  fact  that  she  is  never  found  advocating  the 
reform  of  anything  that  is  held  to  be  good  in  itself,  however 
much  it  may  be  capable  of  improvement.  This  men  are  con- 
stantly doing.  They  are  not  satisfied  that  it  should  be  merely 
good,  better  than  nothing  ;  they  insist  that  it  shall  be  im- 
proved if  it  is  capable  of  improvement,  and  are  never  satisfied 
till  it  is  the  best  it  can  be  made.  This  is  true  reform.  On 
the  other  hand  the  so-called  reforms  in  which  women  engage 
are  properly  speaking  not  reforms  at  all,  they  are  more  nearly 
revolutions.  The  only  institutions  they  have  any  interest  in 
reforming  are  those  that  they  believe  to  be  bad,  and  the  way 
they  propose  to  reform  them  is  simply  to  abolish  them.  It  is 
self-preservation  all  the  time.  The  bad  is  the  unsafe,  the 
dangerous,  and  women's  reforms  are  simply  crusades  against 
real  or  supposed  evils  that  threaten  the  safety  of  themselves 
and  their  children.  Viewed  in  this  light  the  most  radical 
reform  is  the  most  complete  conservatism,  the  conservation  of 
all  that  they  cherish  in  life. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  female  intuition  is  in  strong  con- 
trast with  the  forms  treated  in  Chapters  XXII  and  XXIII. 
Those  forms  are  adapted  to  securing  the  objects  of  desire. 
They  are   the  supports  of  the  ]-)sychic  forces  in  seeking  enjoy- 


Female  Iiituition.  i  79 

ment  and  thus  fulfiling  the  prime  functions  of  existence. 
They  may,  therefore,  from  this  point  of  view,  be  called  positive 
or  active  intuition  in  contrast  with  the  female  quality  which 
may  be  called  negative  or  passive  intuition.  The  latter  does 
not  impel  the  agent  actively  to  go  about  any  labor  or  under- 
taking. It  merely  prepares  for  action  should  it  be  necessary, 
or  it  puts  a  check  upon  proposed  action  if  it  seems  inadvisable. 
A  further  contrast  lies  in  the  fact  that  female  intuition  involves 
no  deception,  whereas  male  intuition,  as  the  other  form  might 
also  be  called,  has  for  its  essential  characteristic  the  principle 
of  deception.  It  is  true  that  both  these  qualities  belong,  to  a 
certain  extent,  to  both  sexes,  that  intuitive  judgment,  as  defined 
in  the  last  chapter  and  seen  to  be  a  general  property  of  mind, 
does  not  essentially  differ  in  principle  from  female  intuition, 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  intuitive  reason  is  often  well  developed 
in  women.  Still,  it  is  also  true  that  when  the  mental  constitu- 
tion of  the  two  sexes  is  broadly  contrasted,  those  qualities  com- 
prehended under  the  term  intuitive  reason,  viz.,  shrewdness, 
diplomacy,  strategy,  and  the  like,  are  preeminently  male  char- 
acteristics ;  they  are  the  active,  positive,  and  progressive  ele- 
ments of  society,  while  the  passive,  negative,  and  conservative 
elements  of  caution,  timidity,  and  apprehensiveness,  constituting 
intuitive  judgment,  are  especially  feminine  traits.  In  the  next 
chapter  we  shall  see  this  contrast  still  more  strongly  drawn  in 
a  form  of  intuition  not  hitherto  considered. 

It  is  not,  therefore,  perhaps  too  much  to  say,  when  all  the 
qualifications  are  made,  that  the  intuitive  faculty  has  developed 
along  two  distinct  lines  corresponding  closely  to  those  followed 
by  the  two  sexes,  and  that  there  practically  exist  a  male  and  a 
female  trunk  of  the  primary  intellectual  faculty,  the  one  adapted 
to  the  sustentation  and  continuation,  and  the  other  to  the  protec- 
tion and  conservation  of  the  race.  Or  the  male  trunk  may  be 
conceived  as  devoted  to  the  active  increase,  development,  and 
advancement,  and  the  female  to  the  passive  stability,  perma- 
nence, and  persistence  of  the  type.    The  dominant  characteristic 


I  So  Objective  Faclors. 

of  the  male  faculty  is  courage,  that  of  the  female,  prudence. 
These  two  antithetical  psychologic  factors  are  paralleled  by  the 
two  biologic  factors  of  male  activity,  favorable  to  adaptation  and 
variability,  as  contrasted  with  female  passivity,  favorable  to 
hereditary  transmission  and  permanence  of  type.  They  also 
have  their  analogues  in  the  two  sociologic  factors  consisting 
of  an  ever-present  radical  party  of  progress  held  in  check  by  an 
ever-present  conservative  party  of  order. 

A  concluding  thought  on  female  intuition  in  general  and 
woman's  intuition  in  particular  should  not  go  unexpressed. 
In  Chap.  XV  occasion  was  taken  to  remark  that  in  view  of  the 
superior  antiquity  and  general  importance  of  the  feelings  to  the 
intellect,  woman,  in  whom  the  former  are  admitted  to  pre- 
dominate, must  be  accorded  at  least  an  equal  rank  with  man  in 
the  economy  of  social  life.  And  now  from  the  point  of  view  of 
intellectual  development  itself  we  find  her  side  by  side,  and 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  him  furnishing,  from  the  very  out- 
set, far  back  in  prehistoric,  presocial,  and  even  prehuman  times, 
the  necessary  complement  to  his  otherwise  one-sided,  headlong, 
and  wayward  career,  without  which  he  would  soon  have  warped 
and  distorted  the  race  and  rendered  it  incapable  of  the  very 
progress  which  he  claims  exclusively  to  inspire.  And  therefore 
again,  even  in  the  realm  of  intellect,  where  he  would  fain  reign 
supreme,  she  has  proved  herself  fully  his  equal  and  is  entitled 
to  her  share  of  whatever  credit  attaches  to  human  progress 
thereby  achieved. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

THE    INVENTIVE    FACULTY. 

The  intellectual  element,  though  commonly  called  a  force,  is  not  in 
reality  such.  It  is  not  comparable  with  the  other  true  psychic  forces. 
These  latter  are  obliged  to  do  the  real  work  that  is  performed,  the  same  in 
the  indirect  as  in  the  direct  method.  The  intellect  only  guides  them  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  secure  the  maximum  results.  It  also  brings  other  natural 
forces  to  their  aid,  and  thus  increases  the  effects.  The  general  process  by 
which  all  this  is  done  is  that  of  invention,  the  product  is  art,  and  therefore 
the  faculty  may  be  called  the  inventive  faculty,  and  the  phenomena  pro- 
duced «r/{/?a«/ phenomena. —  Dynamic  Sociology,  II,  loo. 

It  will  have  been  observed  that  in  all  the  active  or  progressive 
forms  of  intuition,  involving  the  principle  of  deception,  that 
have  thus  far  been  considered,  the  faculty  expends  itself  chiefly 
upon  sentient  beings.  The  relations  that  are  perceived  and 
taken  advantage  of  are  mainly  those  arising  from  the  activities 
of  creatures  possessing  feeling.  The  benefits  derived  from 
efforts  directed  by  the  faculty  are  secured  by  the  agent  at  the 
expense  of  some  other  living  organism.  For  every  pleasure 
enjoyed  by  the  former  there  is  a  corresponding  pain  suffered 
by  the  latter.  Indeed,  there  is  often  great  disparity  between 
the  pains  and  pleasures,  the  former  in  such  cases  usually  being 
largely  in  excess  of  the  latter.  Schopenhauer,  in  arguing  for 
the  excess  of  pain  over  pleasure  in  the  world,  instances  the  case 
of  one  animal  devouring  another.  It  is  difficult  to  conceive  of 
a  sufficient  disparity  in  the  organic  rank  or  nervous  sensibility 
of  the  two  to  make  the  mere  gustatory  pleasure  of  the  one 
balance  the  horrible  sufferings  of  the  other.  But  one  need  not 
seek  this  explanation,  for  the  cases  are  without  number  in 
which  the  victim  is  by  far  the  superior  in  point  of  organization 
and  sensibility  ;  an  extreme  but  common  case  being  where 
man,  a  sage  it  may  be,  is  slowly  tortured  to  death  to  gratify  so 


1 82  Objective  Factors. 

low  an  organism  as  a  tapeworm.  But  all  germ  diseases,  as 
cholera,  yellow  fever,  and  it  may  be  consumption,  really  con- 
stitute still  more  extreme  cases.  I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  that 
these  parasites  possess  the  intuitive  faculty.  They  merely  illus- 
trate the  utter  indifference  of  nature  to  animal  suffering. 

Whatever  name  may  be  given  to  this  quality  in  intuitive 
perception,  i.  e.,  the  effect  upon  the  lower  animals,  it  is  clear 
that  the  higher  stage  which  I  have  distinguished  as  intuitive 
reason,  in  which  it  is  directed  toward  human  beings,  is  essen- 
tially i)in)ioml.  This  would  probably  be  held  to  be  true  by 
most  persons,  even  if  it  could  be  shown  with  certainty  that  the 
happiness  thereby  attained  was  greater  than  the  suffering 
caused.  It  is  only  in  the  ethics  of  Herbert  Spencer  based  on 
the  laws  that  prevail  in  the  animal  world  that  the  opposite  could 
be  maintained.  This  question  belongs  to  a  later  chapter  and 
concerns  us  here  only  in  so  far  as  it  serves  to  bring  out  more 
clearly  the  precise  nature  of  the  intuitive  faculty  in  general. 
It  is  only  an  accident  that  its  exercise  should  so  largely  affect 
sentient  beings.  It  is  by  no  means  restricted  to  these.  It 
simply  happens  that  a  clearer  conception  of  its  nature  could 
be  gained  by  considering  this  application  first,  and  by  deferring 
until  now  the  treatment  of  those  manifestations  of  it  which 
relate  to  inanimate  objects  and  physical  forces. 

There  is  little  doubt,  as  pointed  out  in  Chap.  XXI,  that  the 
initial  efforts  which  led  to  the  development  of  such  a  faculty 
were  made  in  attempting  to  overcome  material  obstacles  to  the 
satisfaction  of  desire.  The  earliest  relations  which  it  was 
necessary  to  perceive  in  order  to  be  able  to  pursue  any  but  the 
direct  course  toward  the  object  of  desire  were  such  as  subsist 
between  the  various  i)hysical  barriers  of  the  environment.  The 
straight  line  on  which  a  body  moves  according  to  Newton's  first 
law  when  acted  upon  by  a  single  force  was  only  possible  to 
living  organisms  inhal)iting  either  water  or  air,  and  this  may 
be  one  of  the  reasons  why,  as  jxileontology  teaches,  the  earliest 
animals   were   acjuatic.      Vast  periods,   perhaps  greater  than  all 


The  Inventive  Faculty.  183 

subsequent  time,  appear  to  have  elapsed  after  the  appearance 
of  marine  life  before  the  introduction  of  land  animals  —  the 
entire  Cambrian,  Silurian,  Devonian,  and  perhaps  Carbonif- 
erous epochs.  The  known  exceptions  consist  of  insects  which 
probably  had  the  power  of  flight,  and  may  have  passed  their 
larval  existence  in  the  water,  and  most  of  their  imago  lives  in 
the  air.  In  these  media  it  was  possible,  when  actuated  by  the 
desire  to  obtain  food  or  mates,  or  to  escape  enemies,  to  move  in 
straight  lines  toward  the  former  or  from  the  latter.  The  simple 
psychic  forces  unaided  by  any  power  of  direction  were  adequate 
to  these  ends,  and  there  was  no  need  of  any  intuitive  faculty 
for  the  perception  of  complex  relations.  But  it  was  otherwise 
with  land  animals  held  to  the  surface  of  the  earth  by  the  force 
of  gravitation.  This  was  also  the  case  with  flying  insects  that 
must  live  among  rocks,  trees,  herbage,  and  undergrowth.  Some 
slight  directive  power  must  exist  even  in  the  simplest  of  these, 
and  such  an  environment  would  probably  have  alone  sufficed  to 
lay  the  foundations  for  the  directive  faculty.  A  certain  stage 
of  this  faculty  was,  therefore,  necessarily  developed  very  early 
in  the  history  of  terrestrial  life.  This  stage  may  have  remained 
stable  during  another  very  long  period,  and  the  next  advance 
was  probably  brought  about  chiefly  by  the  slow  acquirement  of 
the  much  higher  degree  of  this  faculty  which  was  required  to 
perceive  the  vastly  more  complex  relations  of  animal  movement. 
It  was  at  this  second  stage  that  intuitive  perception  as  described 
in  Chap.  XXII  began,  and  from  this  time  until  the  advent 
of  man  its  chief  exercise  was  upon  these  higher  relations, 
although  the  strengthening  faculty  was  also  thereby  rendered 
more  and  more  capable  of  dealing  with  the  simpler  physical 
relations. 

It  has  been  seen  that  after  the  human  stage  was  reached 
the  leading  application  of  the  indirect  method  was  still  to  vital 
and  psychic  phenomena,  that  throughout  the  social  epoch  and 
in  the  highest  civilized  state  this  continued  to  be  the  case,  and 
that  through  this  means  the  intuitive  reason  has  reached  its 


1 84  Objective  Factors. 

highest  development    in   business   shrewdness,  political   diplo- 
macy, and  military  strategy. 

But  very  early  in  the  human  stage,  and  more  especially  in 
the  incipient  social  stage,  the  application  of  the  directive 
faculty  to  inanimate  things  began  to  assume  importance. 
As  numbers  increased  and  the  conditions  of  life  became  more 
complicated  the  purely  animal  methods  of  pursuing  subsistence 
grew  more  and  more  inadequate.  Foresight  in  accumulating 
stores  for  future  and  permanent  supply  of  wants  may  have 
been  the  earliest  and  simplest  form  of  exercising  this  faculty, 
but  along  with  it  there  went  the  discovery  of  means  for  in- 
creasing the  ease  and  rapidity  with  which  this  could  be  done. 
Whether  the  primary  mode  was  the  chase  or  some  primitive 
form  of  agriculture,  it  called  forth  in  either  case  a  new  form  of 
the  intuitive  faculty,  not  hitherto  considered.  None  of  the 
terms  employed  in  the  preceding  chapters  will  properly  apply 
to  this  form  of  its  exercise,  and  a  different  one  must  be  used. 
The  word  which  most  adequately  conveys  this  idea  is  ingenuity. 
It  is  true  that  in  the  chase  sagacity  and  cunning  were  of  the 
utmost  value  in  circumventing  the  animals  to  be  captured,  but 
something  else  was  required  to  make  this  mode  of  life  a  suc- 
cessful means  of  supplying  the  wants  of  a  large  number  of 
individuals.  Some  additional  material  instruments  must  be 
employed  as  aids  in  the  chase.  The  use  of  a  club  or  a  stone  to 
increase  the  effect  of  a  blow,  or  overcome  the  distance  between 
the  pursuer  and  his  prey  may  seem  an  exceedingly  simple  de- 
vice, and  yet  it  is  doubtful  whether  any  ape  or  monkey  (these 
animals  having  organs  adapted  to  such  acts)  has  been  known 
to  resort  to  it.  All  animals  rely  exclusively  upon  the  organic 
weapons  with  which  nature  has  endowed  them  both  for  attack 
and  defence.  The  use,  therefore,  of  any  material  object  not 
a  part  of  themselves  for  giving  greater  force  to  their  effort  was 
a  complete  innovation  and  involved  a  new  application  of  the 
intuitive  faculty,  or  a  higher  attribute  of  mind  than  belongs 
U)  any  creature  lower  in  the  scale  than  man.     But  even  should 


The  Inventive  Faculty.  185 

it  be  satisfactorily  shown  that  any  other  animal  than  man 
ever  employs  such  means,  this  would  only  be  to  remove  the 
point  of  origin  of  the  inventive  faculty  so  much  farther  back. 
There  is,  of  course,  no  end  of  cases  in  which  animals  employ 
devices  to  accomplish  definite  purposes  where  more  or  less  use 
is  made  of  extraneous  objects  and  physical  forces.  Language 
permits  us  to  call  the  many  remarkable  ways  in  which  birds 
build  nests  ingenious,  and  it  is  also  known  that  they  improve 
their  methods  under  certain  circumstances.  The  archer  fish 
kills  insects  that  fly  over,  by  shooting  them  with  jets  of  water 
from  its  elongated  snout;  spiders  that  spin  long  gossamers 
knoiv  Jiozu  to  take  in  sail  like  a  mariner  or  to  let  themselves 
down  at  the  proper  time  and  place  like  an  aeronaut ;  and  the 
list  might  be  indefinitely  increased.  But  if  such  cases  are 
attributed  to  any  high  mental  faculty,  what  shall  be  said  of 
certain  insectivorous  plants,  such  as  Gcnlisca  oriiata  of  Brazil, 
which  catches  its  prey  in  a  complicated  sort  of  trap,  or  of 
Dioncea  niuscipnla,  which  spontaneously  closes  upon  it  by  a 
movement  of  its  own  .'*  Most  of  such  cases  consist  of  adapta- 
tions which  have  been  slowly  brought  about  through  the 
operation  of  natural  selection,  and  if  we  may  properly  call 
them  contrivances  it  is  because  we  really  use  a  figure  of  speech 
which  has  become  so  comm.on  that  the  fact  is  lost  sight  of  that 
it  is  really  metaphorical.  It  is,  however,  doubtless  true  that 
the  practice  of  using  such  figures  grew  up  under  the  influence 
of  a  prevailing  teleological  habit  of  thought,  due  to  the  old 
cosmology  which  regarded  everything  as  constructed  by  an 
outside  power  for  its  specific  purpose,  and  language  has  so 
conformed  itself  to  this  philosophy  that  it  is  impossible  tO' 
express  one's  self  so  as  to  be  understood  without  employing  its 
formulas.  It  may,  nevertheless,  be  admitted  that  in  some  of 
the  cases,  such  as  the  construction  of  nests,  intuitive  percep- 
tion has  cooperated  with  natural  selection  and  the  develop- 
ment of  the  instinct,  and  this,  so  far  as  it  goes,  does  not  in 
the  least  differ  qualitatively  from  invention,  although,  quanti- 


1 86  Objective  Factors. 

tatively  considered,  it  falls  infinitely  below  the  simplest  forms 
displayed  by  primitive  man. 

Returning  to  the  hunting  stage  of  human  development  we 
might  trace  the  progress  of  invention  from  the  club  or  stone, 
through  all  the  stages  of  spears,  darts,  bows  and  arrows,  slings, 
boomerangs,  etc.,  to  modern  fire  arms.  Similarly  might  be 
traced  the  artificial  means  of  ensnaring  and  entrapping  animals. 
Among  coast  dwellers  this  latter  method  was  directed  to  the 
capture  of  fish  and  other  creatures  that  inhabit  the  water,  and 
all  the  appliances  that  have  been  devised  by  man  for  this  pur- 
pose might  be  passed  in  review.  In  the  agricultural  or  georgic 
stage  the  quality  of  forethought  was  more  specially  called  out 
by  the  necessity  of  sowing  or  planting  and  awaiting  the 
harvest,  but  success  depended  fully  as  much  upon  artificial 
means  as  in  the  chase.  Instruments  for  turning  the  soil,  how- 
ever rude  at  first,  had  to  be  devised,  presenting  all  the  steps 
from  a  sharpened  stick  to  the  developed  plow.  To  this  were 
gradually  added  all  other  agricultural  implements. 

The  pastoral  or  bucolic  stage  called  forth  in  the  domesti- 
cation of  animals  a  form  of  the  faculty  closely  resembling 
cunning  or  shrewdness.  It  consisted  mainly  in  deceiving 
the  less  sagacious  creatures,  but  differed  from  that  displayed 
in  the  capture  of  prey  in  not  immediately  killing  and  devour- 
ing them,  but  in  what  is  called  tai)iing  them.  It  took  advan- 
tage of  the  law  that  injury  is  what  animals  seek  to  escape, 
and  that  when  they  find  that  they  are  not  to  be  injured,  they 
submit.  A  tamed  animal  is  a  sort  of  a  parasite  living  on  man 
whom  it  has  ceased  to  fear,  but  in  return  for  the  subsistence 
furnished,  man  makes  certain  uses  of  it,  compelling  it  to  work 
for  him,  killing  it  for  food,  shearing  its  fleece,  milking  the 
females,  etc. 

With  the  increase  of  population  and  the  dispersion  of  man 
over  the  earth  many  other  wants  arose,  especially  those  of 
clothing  and  shelter.  No  other  wants  were  more  directly 
conducive  to  the  development  of  the  inventive  faculty.      How- 


The  Inventive  Faculty.  187 

ever  simple  man's  dwelling  places  might  be,  a  large  amount  of 
ingenuity  was  required  in  constructing  them.  If  his  clothing 
consisted  solely  of  the  skins  of  animals  these  were  improved 
by  sewing  them  together.  And  from  these  beginnings  might 
be  followed  out  two  of  the  leading  human  industries  and  their 
progress  might  be  traced  to  the  stage  at  which  they  have 
arrived  in  civilized  countries.  But  along  with  these  real  needs, 
and  often  even  earlier,  man  is  found  exerting  perhaps  greater 
ingenuity  in  the  supply  of  imaginary  needs.  Ornamentation, 
antedated  clothing  and  temples  of  religion  preceded  human 
habitations. 

One  of  the  strongest  spurs  to  invention  was  war.  Early 
man  was  almost  invariably  warlike.  If  he  preferred  peace  he 
was  driven  to  war  as  a  means  of  defence.  Weapons  of  war 
must  be  devised,  and  thus  while  the  strategic  faculty  was  being 
developed  the  inventive  faculty  was  at  the  same  time  stimulated. 
The  weapons  of  war  were  of  two  kinds,  offensive  and  defensive, 
and  tribe  vied  with  tribe,  as  nation  still  vies  with  nation  in  the 
production  of  both.  No  higher  stimulus  to  invention  can  be 
conceived  of  than  is  afforded  by  this  state  of  things.  For 
success  depends  upon  the  introduction  of  a  more  effective 
means  than  previously  existed.  Such  a  means  puts  an  enemy 
or  foreign  power  at  the  mercy  of  the  most  ingenious  nation. 
This  state  of  unstable  equilibrium  always  exists,  for  the  moment 
one  power  thus  gains  the  mastery  it  becomes  a  necessity  that 
others  shall  outdo  it  in  the  same  direction.  In  this  way  the 
instruments  of  destruction  and  the  artifices  of  protection  against 
them  have  alternately  overreached  each  other  in  an  ascending 
series  until  we  have  the  modern  methods  of  warfare  which  are 
still  unchanged  in  this  respect. 

This  progress  in  the  means  of  warfare  well  illustrates  the 
question  discussed  a  few  pages  back  as  to  the  real  difference 
between  the  methods  of  man  and  those  of  nature.  The  prog- 
ress that  has  taken  place  among  animals  in  acquiring  weapons 
of  offense  and  characters  adapted  to  defense  against  these  — 


iSS  Objective  Factors. 

tusks,  horns,  claws,  spurs,  etc.,  on  the  one  hand,  and  shells, 
bristles,  quills  (as  of  the  porcupine),  etc.,  on  the  other  —  seems 
to  be  almost  an  exact  parallel  on  a  lower  plane  to  that  of  man 
in  war.  And  yet  the  former  is  the  undoubted  product  of 
natural  selection  and  is  seen  almost  as  clearly  in  plants,  especi- 
ally the  defensive  side  of  it.  It  is  these  anah\t;ies,  and  there 
are  many  of  them,  which  so  forcibly  struck  Hugh  Miller,^  and 
writers  of  that  class,  who  thought  they  saw  in  them  the  evi- 
dences of  design  in  the  universe.  But  they  never  seemed  to 
reflect  to  how  little  purpose  this  design  would  thus  be  put, 
since  at  each  higher  stage  the  relative  positions  of  the  offensive 
and  defensive  combatants  is  the  same,  and  it  appears  to  the 
rational  observer  like  a  vast  waste  of  energy  without  any  result. 
The  conditions  above  enumerated  that  have  specially  stimu- 
lated the  inventive  faculty  are  only  the  most  obvious  and 
fundamental  ones.  With  the  general  upward  tendencies  of 
social  life  they  were  indefinitely  multiplied.  The  materials  and 
forces  of  nature  were  more  and  more  systematically  employed 
to  the  advantage  of  man.  The  wind  was  utilized  first  for 
winnowing  and  then  as  a  motor  force  by  means  of  a  true 
machine,  the  windmill.  Water  was  utilized  by  the  construction 
of  floating  objects  which  eventually  took  the  form  of  true  boats 
propelled  by  paddles  or  oars,  or  finally  by  sails,  in  which  latter 
case  both  wind  aijd  water  were  brought  into  service.  Later 
its  power  was  discovered  to  do  other  work,  and  watermills 
appeared.  Gunpowder  and  other  explosives  were  the  products 
of  the  war  impulse.  Gravitation  was  utilized  in  weights  for 
various  purposes.  Elasticity,  perhaps  first  used  in  the  bow, 
came  to  play  a  leading  role,  and  springs  came  to  replace  weights 
in  many  cases.  The  power  of  steam  was  a  late  discovery  and 
was  succeeded  by  that  of  electricity.  With  the  former  was 
ushered  in  the  true  era  of  machinery  and  locomotion.  The 
latter  is  still  far  from  having  reached  its  maximum  utility. 
Such  is  the  barest  sketch  of  the  achievements  of  the  inventive 

1  Testimony  of  the  Rocks,  pp.  240-242. 


The  Inventive  Faculty.  189 

faculty,  not  intended  as  such,  but  merely  as  furnishing  a  few 
of  the  leading  examples  of  its  operation  as  an  agency  of  civili- 
zation. It  is  easy  to  see  from  even  so  brief  a  survey  of  the 
field  that  this  is  the  real  civilizing  agent.  If  certain  refining 
influences,  largely  dependent  indirectly  upon  this,  be  left  out 
of  the  account,  it  is  correct  to  say  that  civilization  consists  in 
the  utilization  of  the  materials  and  forces  of  nature,  and  the 
exclusive  means  by  which  this  is  accomplished  is  human  in- 
vention. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

PSYCHOLOGY    OF   INVENTION. 

The  inventor  of  a  useful  instrument  is  the  best  illustration  of  a  final 
cause.  With  the  end  distinctly  in  view  but  beyond  his  reach,  he  sits  down 
and  evolves  from  his  knowledge  of  physical  laws  an  indirect  7nethod  of 
accomplishing  it.  Unable  to  perform  an  act  immediately,  he  reasons  out 
a  plan  of  performing  it  mediately.  By  a  train  of  logical  calculation,  from 
premises  obtained  by  experience  and  observation,  he  determines  a  mode  of 
taking  advantage  of  blind  mechanical  forces  and  directing  them  into  such 
channels  as  will  accomplish  the  end  in  view.  This  method  may  be  illus- 
trated by  the  simplest  of  the  mechanical  laws,  that  made  use  of  in  the  lever 
and  fulcrum.  The  advantage  which  man  is  able  to  take  over  nature  by  an 
adjustment  of  appliances  is  the  principle  or  nexus  which  connects  mind 
with  matter,  and  permits  the  former  to  manifest  itself  through  the  latter 
as  a  force.  —  Dynamic  Sociology,  I,  551-552. 

Ad  opera  nil  aliud  potest  homo,  quam  ut  corpora  naturalia  admoveat  et 
amoveat ;  reliqua  Natura  intus  transigit.  —  Bacon  :  Novtan  Organum, 
Aph.  IV. 

Toutes  les  fois  que  nous  parvenous  h,  exercer  une  grande  action,  c'est 
seulement  parce  que  la  connaissance  des  lois  naturelles  nous  permet 
d'introduire,  parmi  les  circonstances  determinces  sous  I'influence  desquelles 
s'accomplissent  les  divers  phdnomenes,  quelques  elements  modificateurs, 
qui,  quelque  faible  qu'ils  soient  en  eux-memes,  suffisent,  dans  certains  cas, 
pour  faire  tourner  h.  notre  satisfaction  les  r^sultats  ddfinitifs  de  I'ensemble 
des  causes  extdrieures.  —  Auguste  Comte  :   Philosophie  Positive,  I,  51. 

When  the  inventive  faculty  is  carefully  compared  with  the 
other  forms  of  intuition  which  have  been  considered  there  are 
found  to  be  certain  resemblances  and  certain  differences.  The 
resemblances  are  far  more  general  and  important  than  the 
differences,  all  forms  agreeing  in  the  fundemental  condition  of 
consisting  in  the  i-)crcei:)tion  of  relations,  chiefly  of  the  same 
general  classes  of  relations,  viz.,  those  of  resistance,  direction, 
rate  of  motion,  and  distance.     The  distinction  between  inven- 


Psychology  of  Invention.  191 

tion  and  that  primitive  form  of  intuition  which  was  called 
intuitive  perception,  beyond  its  differentiation  into  the  sole 
perception  of  physical  relations,  is  mainly  one  of  degree,  but 
the  degree  is  very  great.  The  distinction  between  it  and  the 
higher  form  of  intuition  which  was  called  intuitive  reason  may 
be  illustrated  in  several  ways.  Both  are  limited  mainly  if  not 
exclusively  to  man,  but  whereas  intuitive  reason  is  chiefly 
exercised  on  other  human  beings  or  on  the  lower  animals,  i.  e., 
in  perceiving  psychic  relations,  invention  is  exclusively  con- 
fined to  material  objects  and  physical  forces,  i.  e.,  to  perceiving 
physical  relations.  But  as  business  shrewdness  may,  and  con- 
stantly does  take  cognizance  of  the  material  surroundings, 
some  more  exact  points  of  difference  must  be  found.  One  of 
these  is  that  in  the  latter  the  attention  is  strictly  confined  to 
the  question  of  personal  interest.  No  physical  relations  are 
sought  for  that  are  not  directly  advantageous  to  the  subject. 
The  relations  perceived  are  those  which  subsist  between  the 
subject  and  whatever  material  objects  may  be  concerned. 
They  are  never  such  as  subsist  between  two  material  objects 
without  affecting  the  subject.  From  this  point  of  view,  this 
form,  and  indeed  all  the  other  forms  of  intuition,  may  be  called 
subjective,  and  invention  may  be  distinguished  as  objective. 
For  here  the  relations  perceived  are  entirely  between  external 
objects  or  forces  and  never  between  these  and  the  subject. 
The  moment  the  subject  enters  into  the  process  the  form  is 
changed  and  it  becomes  subjective. 

From  another  point  of  view  invention  or  objective  intuition 
may  be  called  disintcj-ested,  in  contradistinction  to  subjective 
intuition  which  is  essentially  egoistic.  This  latter  is  the  im- 
mediate servant  of  the  will.  Its  sole  purpose  is  to  assist  the 
psychic  forces  in  securing  the  satisfaction  of  desire.  This 
intensely  interested  nature  of  the  intuitive  reason  gives  it  far 
greater  volume  and  strength,  and  it  pushes  on  through  obstacles 
and  obstructions  and  makes  itself  felt.  In  contrast  with  this 
the  objective,  disinterested  form  of  intuition  has  little  force  or 


192  Objective  Factors. 

self-assertion,  loses  sight  of  self  and  absorbs  itself  in  nature, 
thus  assimilating  itself  in  this  respect  to  the  derivative  faculties 
to  be  hereafter  considered. 

All  these  distinctions  are  illustrated  by  the  well-known  fact 
that  inventors  seldom  profit  by  their  inventions,  while  shrewd 
business  men  frequently  make  fortunes  out  of  them  under  the 
very  eye  of  the  inventor.  The  faculty  exercised  by  the  two 
classes  is  here  seen  to  be  widely  different.  The  sharp  egoism 
of  the  one  is  in  strong  contrast  with  the  neglect  on  the  part  of 
the  other  of  his  personal  interests  for  the  sake  of  unfolding  an 
important  physical  principle.  It  is  profitable  to  the  sociologist 
to  consider  carefully  these  two  classes  of  character.  The 
inventor  always  sees  the  utility  of  his  invention.  This  is  the 
essence  of  the  process.  Invention  may  be  defined  as  the 
perception  of  relations  of  ntility.  It  may  be  said  that  all  intui- 
tion consists  in  this,  and  so  it  does,  but  in  all  the  other  forms 
the  only  utility  considered  is  immediate  utility  to  self.  The 
utility  that  the  inventor  perceives  is  perpetual  utility  to  all  who 
use  the  invention.  In  this  sense  the  inventor  may  be  called  the 
most  practical  of  all  men.  The  relations  which  the  inventor 
perceives,  although  physical,  are  often  exceedingly  complex 
and  recondite,  much  more  so  than  the  subjective  relations, 
even  though  psychic,  which  the  business  man  perceives. 

If  now  we  take  the  case  of  an  inventor  who  has  devised  a 
mechanism  or  discovered  a  principle  of  vast  importance  to  the 
future  of  civilization,  and  suppose  that  through  absorption  in 
this  principle  and  consequent  neglect  of  his  personal  interests 
he  has,  however  carelessly  and  culpably,  allowed  a  shrewd  busi- 
ness man  to  get  possession  of  his  invention,  and  suppose  the 
latter  to  have  introduced  it  into  general  use  as  fully  as  is  con- 
sistent with  reserving  for  himself  an  ample  fortune,  while  the 
inventor  has  remained  poor  so  as  to  interfere  seriously  with  his 
success  in  discovering  other  principles  ;  this  would  be  only 
a  slight  exaggeration  and  simplification  of  actual  cases  known 
to  history.     Sociologically  considered,  which  of  these  two  men 


Psychology  of  Invention.  193 

is  of  most  worth  ?  But  for  the  business  man  the  inventor  might 
not  have  had  the  sagacity  to  introduce  his  principle.  But  for 
the  inventor  the  business  man  would  have  been  obliged  to 
make  his  fortune  out  of  some  other  man's  talents.  Both  have 
done  a  service.  Which  has  done  the  greater  service }  If  it 
were  known  that  but  for  the  business  man  the  invention  would 
have  remained  as  if  it  had  not  been  made,  the  services  of  the 
two  might  be  regarded  as  practically  equal,  although  all  would 
concede  to  the  inventor  a  higher  place  from  the  point  of  view 
of  personal  worth.  But  as  it  can  never  be  known  whether  the 
inventor  would  have  applied  his  principle,  it  is  clear  to  every 
one  that  his  was  the  essentially  meritorious  act.  It  is  felt  that 
he  possesses  something  rare  and  valuable,  something  of  a  far 
higher  order  of  merit.  The  business  man's  talent  is  rather 
ordinary,  it  is  a  lower,  coarser-grained  form  of  ability,  and  it 
consists  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  in  gaining  for  himself  what 
really  belongs  to  another.  Yet  under  the  law  of  competition, 
i.e.,  under  the  only  law  that  most  political  economists  and  soci- 
ologists recognize,  this  man  is  by  far  the  fitter  to  survive.  From 
the  biological  standpoint  he  should  survive  and  the  inventor 
should  go  to  the  wall.  This  case  illustrates,  as  crucially  as  any, 
the  distinction  between  the  current  philosophy  of  society  and 
that  of  meliorism  ;  between  biologic  and  psychologic  sociology. 
If  the  inventive  faculty  be  compared  with  intuitive  judgment 
and  female  intuition  much  greater  differences  will  be  found 
than  those  which  distinguish  it  from  intuitive  perception  and 
intuitive  reason.  Besides  most  of  the  distinctions  pointed  out 
as  separating  the  male  or  active  from  the  female  or  passive 
forms  of  intuition  there  are  other  speciiic  distinctions.  Passive 
or  negative  intuition  is  as  egoistic  as  active  or  positive  intuition. 
Self-protection  is  no  more  disinterested  than  self-aggrandize- 
ment. The  relations  perceived  in  the  one,  as  in  the  other,  are 
always  relacions  between  object  and  subject,  never,  as  in  inven- 
tion, between  two  or  more  objects.  They  are  also  usually 
psychic    relations    and    only    rarely   physical    relations.      The 


194  Objective  Factors. 

conservatism  that  characterizes  negative  intuition  in  tolerating 
no  innovation  fosters  no  improvements.  But  all  improvement 
results  from  invention,  hence  it  stimulates  no  invention.  Ex- 
treme forms  of  this  tendency  are  seen  in  some  cases  of  religious 
conservatism  which  looks  upon  all  newfangled  contrivances  as 
diabolical,  and  if  allowed  prohibits  or  distroys  them.^  The 
habit  of  thought  also  reacts  upon  the  constitution  of  the  mind 
rendering  conservative  persons  uninventivc.  It  is  difficult  to 
demonstrate  this  in  men,  yet  could  it  be  investigated  it  would 
probably  appear.  But  society  possesses  a  great  conservative 
class  —  the  female  sex  —  and  a  comparison  of  the  average 
mental  qualities  of  men  and  women  is  not  difficult.  While 
many  exceptions  of  course  exist,  while  there  are  conservative 
men  and  progressive  women,  and  uninventive  men  and  ingeni- 
ous women,  it  is  nevertheless  an  obvious  fact  patent  to  every 
observer  that  the  female  is  the  conservative  and  the  male  the 
inventive  sex,  that  women  as  a  rule  are  conservative,  and  that 
as  a  rule  they  are  not  inventive.  The  foregoing  considerations 
go  to  show  that  these  qualities  stand  in  the  relation  of  cause 
and  effect,  that  the  habitual  exercise  of  the  intuitive  judgment 
is  not  favorable  to  the  development  of  the  inventive  faculty. 

This  exhausts  the  sources  of  comparison,  and  the  question 
reverts  to  the  psychology  of  invention,  the  essential  nature  of 
an  inventive  act.  All  the  mental  acts  of  intuition  of  whatever 
form,  that  is,  the  flow  of  nerve-currents  constituting  psychic 
activity,  are  attended  with  corresponding  movements  of  the  ap- 
propriate organs  or  of  the  entire  organism.  These  movements 
are  adapted  to  taking  advantage  of  the  relations  perceived.  In 
the  subjective  forms  of   intuition  these  acts  arc  usually  such  as 

1  Suivant  la  logique,  barbare  mais  rigoureuse,  des  peuples  arrieres,  toute  inter- 
vention active  de  I'homme  pour  amcliorer  a  son  profit  I'economie  generate  de  la 
nature,  doit  certainement  constituer  une  sorte  d'injurieux  attentat  au  gouverne- 
ment  providentiel.  II  n'est  pas  douteux,  en  effet,  qu'une  preponderance  trop 
absolue  de  I'esprit  religieux  tend  necessairement,  en  elle-meme,  ^  engourdir  I'essor 
industriel  de  rhumanitc.  par  le  sentiment  exaggere  d'un  stupide  optimisme, 
comme  on  peut  le  verifier  en  tant  d'occasions  decisives.  —  Auguste  Comte  :  Phi- 
losophic Positive,  IV,  517. 


Psychology  of  Invention.  195 

to  deceive  some  other  sentient  being,  and  cause  such  being  to 
do  what  it  otherwise  would  not  have  done,  or  to  refrain  from 
doing  what  it  would  otherwise  have  done.  That  is,  it  consists 
in  a  form  of  inducement,  allurement,  or  attraction  to  perform 
certain  acts.  Certain  forces  are  perceived  regularly  to  actuate 
living  things,  and  by  cunning,  sagacity,  shrewdness,  diplomacy, 
or  strategy  these  forces  are  made  to  impel  in  directions  that 
will  be  advantageous  to  the  intuitive  agent.  Mechanical  inge- 
nuity certainly  very  closely  resembles  this.  Certain  qualities 
of  material  bodies  and  certain  physical  forces  (these  in  the  last 
analysis  being  really  the  same)  are  perceived  to  exist.  It  is 
also  perceived  that  if  these  forces  acted  in  a  different  direction, 
or  with  a  different  degree  of  intensity  from  what  they  do  when 
unobstructed,  or  acted  together  instead  of  separately,  or  with, 
instead  of  against  each  other,  etc.,  etc.,  they  would  of  them- 
selves accomplish  results  advantageous  to  man,  primarily,  of 
course,  advantageous  to  self.  It  is  still  further  perceived  that 
although  the  agent  himself  is  unable  by  his  own  muscular 
strength  to  accomplish  these  desired  results,  he  is  able  to  make 
such  adjustments  in  the  circumjacent  objects  as  will  change 
the  direction,  intensity,  and  dynamic  relations  of  these  forces, 
so  as  to  cause  them  to  act  as  he  perceives  to  be  advantageous. 
Or,  dealing  with  the  qualities  of  materials,  he  is  able  to  change 
their  form  from  the  amorphous  and  useless  to  the  definite  and 
useful,  as  e.  g.,  to  convert  clay^  into  pots,  or  trees  into  boats. 
Such  complicated  readjustments  as  these  last  named  required 
a  high  degree  of  intellectual  development,  and  could  only  have 
been  finally  reached  through  an  infinite  number  of  partial  fail- 
ures and  increasingly  successful  efforts. 

^   AXXa  77;;'  ii.kv  ovhth  i5aTt  Sewas  cKpTJKev,  (J$  dno  rvxris  Kal  avTo/j.dTi-Js  irXlvOwv 
iaonivoov.  —  Plutarch  :  Hepi  Tvxv^- 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

INVENTIVE   GENIUS. 

The  devices  and  stratagems  by  whicli  he  [man]  was  enabled  to  circum- 
vent the  less  sagacious  forms  of  life,  and  the  foresight  and  calculation 
which  taught  him  how  to  multiply  the  growth  and  abundance  of  nutritive 
vegetables,  were  of  no  avail  beyond  a  certain  limit  unless  supplemented  and 
assisted  by  a  still  higher  order  of  mental  activity,  by  a  practical  compre- 
hension of  the  inert  laws  of  physics  and  mechanics,  and  the  skillful  elabora- 
tion of  material  objects  into  forms  adapted  to  aid,  accelerate,  intensify,  and 
focalize  the  natural  forces  which  were  operating  in  the  direction  of  pro- 
ducing his  means  of  subsistence.  The  form  of  mental  e.xertion,  the  species 
of  cunning,  which  he  had  manifested  in  the  primary  modes  of  production, 
were  superficial  and  general.  To  make  them  permanently  successful,  they 
required  to  be  seconded  by  more  profound  and  more  specific  forms  of 
psychic  power  and  intellectual  energy.  -—  DynaM/c  Sociology,  I,  549. 

Now,  what  I  maintain,  and  what  the  advocates  of  the  new  education 
ought  to  insist  upon  in  the  discussion  of  this  c^uestion,  is,  that  this  exalted 
faculty  of  invention,  both  in  its  mental  and  its  physical  aspects  —  both  as 
to  mind  and  body,  brain  and  muscle  —  is  susceptible  of  cultivation  in  the 
same  manner  and  to  the  same  degree  as  all  other  human  faculties.  The 
mind  can  be  directed  by  appropriate  training  into  habits  of  inventive 
thought.  It  can  be  habituated  to  look  for  possible  utilities  in  all  objects 
and  phenomena  that  present  themselves  to  the  senses,  and  trained  to 
embody  these  ideas  in  concrete  forms  and  mechanisms.  This  is  genuine 
invention.  The  process  consists  in  forming  a  mental  conception  of  a  given 
utility,  and  then  in  working  out  the  modifications  necessary  to  realize  it. 
.  .  .  The  great  mistake  lies  in  supposing  tliat  this  state  of  things  cannot  or 
should  not  be  increased.  It  can  be  increased  by  education  to  anv  desired 
degree,  and  such  a  degree  can  be  conceived  of  as  might  relieve  mankind 
of  nearly  all  the  drudgery  that  has  now  to  be  performed.  —  The  Foncm, 
Vol.  V,  New  York,  July,  1888,  p.  578. 

Primo  itaque  videtur  invcntorum  nobilium  introductio  inter  actiones 
humanas  longe  primas  partes  tenere  :  id  quod  antiqua  sa^cula  judicaverunt. 
Ea  enim  rerum  inventoribus  divinos  honores  tribuerunt  ;  iis  autem  qui  in 
rebus  civilibus  merebantur  f(|ualcs  erant  urbium  et  imperiorum  conditores, 
legislatores,  patriarum  a  diuturnis  nialis  liberatores,  tyrannidum  debellatores, 
et  his  similes),  heroum  tantum  honores  decreverunt.     Atque  certe  si  quis  ea 


Inventive  Gen  his.  197 

recte  conferat,  justum  hoc  prisci  saeculi  judicium  reperiet.  Etenim  inven- 
torum  beneficia  ad  universum  genus  humanum  pertinere  possunt,  civilia  ad 
certas  tantummodo  hominum  sedes  :  haec  etiam  non  ultra  paucas  astates 
durant,  ilia  quasi  perpetuis  temporibus.  Atque  status  emendatio  in  civili- 
bus  non  sine  vi  et  perturbatione  plerumque  procedit  :  at  inventa  beant,  et 
beneficium  deferunt  absque  alicujus  injuria  aut  tristitia.  —  Bacon  :  Novum 
Organum,  Aph.  cxxix. 

The  higher  acquisitions  and  achievements  of  intellect  have  now  become 
so  remote  from  practical  life,  that  their  relations  to  it  are  usually  lost  sight 
of.  But  if  we  remember  that  in  the  stick  employed  to  heave  up  a  stone,  or 
the  paddle  to  propel  a  boat,  we  have  illustrations  of  the  "uses  of  levers  ; 
while  in  the  pointing  of  an  arrow  so  as  to  allow  for  its  fall  during  flight, 
certain  dynamical  principles  are  tacitly  recognized  ;  and  that  from  these 
vague  early  cognitions  the  progress  may  be  traced  step  by  step  to  the 
generalizations  of  mathematicians  and  astronomers  ;  we  see  that  science 
has  gradually  emerged  from  the  crude  knowledge  of  the  savage.  And  if 
we  remember  that  as  this  crude  knowledge  of  the  savage  served  for  simple 
guidance  of  his  life-sustaining  actions,  so  the  developed  sciences  of  math- 
ematics and  astronomy  serve  for  guidance  in  the  workshop  and  the  counting- 
house  and  for  steering  of  vessels,  while  developed  physics  and  chemistry 
preside  over  all  manufacturing  processes  ;  we  see  that  at  the  one  extreme 
as  at  the  other,  furtherance  of  men's  ability  to  deal  effectually  with  the  sur- 
rounding world,  and  so  to  satisfy  their  wants,  is  that  purpose  of  intellectual 
culture  which  precedes  all  others.  —  Herbert  Spencer:  Principles  of 
Ethics,  I,  pp.  516-517. 

Jene  Scharfe  des  Verstandes  im  Auffassen  der  kausalen  Beziehungen  der 
mittelbar  erkannten  Objekte  findet  ihre  Anwendung  nicht  allein  in  der 
Naturwissenschaft  (deren  sammtliche  Entdeckungen  ihr  zu  verdanken  sind); 
sondern  auch  im  praktischen  Leben,  wo  sie  Klugheit  heisst  ;  da  sie 
hingegen  in  der  ersteren  Anwendung  besser  Scharfsinn,  Penetration,  und 
Sagacitat  genannt  wird  :  genau  genommen  bezeichnet  Klugheit  ausschliess- 
lich  den  im  Dienste  des  Willens  stehenden  Verstand.  Jedoch  sind  die 
Granzen  dieser  Begriffe  nie  scharf  zu  ziehen,  da  es  immer  eine  und  dieselbe 
Funktion  des  namlichen,  schon  bei  der  Anschauung  der  Objekte  im  Raum 
in  jedem  Thiere  thatigen  Verstandes  ist,  die,  in  ihrer  grossten  Scharfe,  bald 
in  den  Erscheinungen  der  Natur  von  der  gegebenen  Wirkung  die  unbe- 
kannte  Ursache  richtig  erforscht  und  so  der  Vernunft  den  Stoff  giebt  zum 
Denken  allgemeiner  Regeln  als  Naturgesetze  ;  bald,  durch  Anwendung 
bekannter  Ursachen  zu  bezweckten  Wirkungen,  komplicirte  sinnreiche 
Maschinen  erfindet  ;  bald,  auf  Motivation  angewendet,  entweder  feine  In- 
triguen  und  Machinationen  durchschaut  und  vereitelt,  oder  aber  auch  selbst 


198  Objective  Factors. 

die  Motive  unci  die  Menschen,  welche  fiir  jedes  derselben  empfanglich 
sind,  gehorig  stellt,  und  sie  eben  nach  Belieben,  wie  Maschinen  durch 
Hebel  und  Rader,  in  Bewegung  setzt  und  zu  ihren  Zwecken  leitet. — 
Schopenhauer  :   Welt  als  Wille,  I,  25-26. 

The  use  of  the  word  gcuiits  has  thus  far  been  avoided  be- 
cause there  is  usually  associated  with  all  its  uses  the  notion  of 
disinterested  application  to  some  inspiring  conception,  a  notion 
directly  opposed  to  the  intense  egoism  characteristic  of  the 
class  of  primary  intellectual  acts  that  have  been  considered. 
But  the  inventive  faculty  alone  among  all  these  contains  the 
possibility  of  developing  out  of  self  and  of  losing  itself  in 
nature.  Originating  like  the  others  in  pure  egoism  under  the 
lash  of  the  will,  it  still  possessed  even  at  the  outset,  as  shown 
in  the  last  chapter,  the  special  privilege  of  being  directed 
toward  the  discernment  of  relations  between  external  things, 
and  of  being  only  secondarily  connected  with  the  willing  sub- 
ject. At  first  this  liberty  produced  no  tendency  to  cut  loose 
from  the  will,  and  these  relations  were  perceived  only  in  order 
to  discover  thereby  a  line,  however  irregular,  of  least  resistance 
to  the  object  of  desire.  But  at  length  the, habit  of  treating 
these  means  temporarily  as  ends  resulted  in  transferring  some 
small  part  of  the  satisfaction  to  the  successful  discovery  of  the 
means.  The  rare  and  special  quality  of  mind  required  for  this 
gave  it  a  peculiar  relish  and  it  became  a  pleasure  to  discover 
hitherto  unsuspected  means  for  the  accomplishment  even  of 
the  primary  ends  of  being.  \J\)  to  this  point  we  may  consider 
the  intellect  simply  as  an  instrument  of  the  will,  but  hence- 
forth it  was  destined  to  form,  to  a  greater  and  greater  extent, 
a  part  of  the  will  or  soul,  to  become  itselt  a  center  of 
emotional  feeling,  to  have  wants  of  its  own  and  desires  to 
satisfy.  This  datum  point  may  be  set  down  as  the  true  origin 
of  the  sense  of  enjoyment  in  intellectual  exercise,  which  ulti- 
mately developed  into  a  great  psychic  and  social  force. 

This  circumstance  soon  carried  the  inventive  faculty  above 
and  bcv<»nd  the  other  forms  of  intuition.      The  act  of  seeking 


Inventive  Genius.  199 

out  and  discovering  useful  relations  became  in  a  high  degree 
pleasing,  and  ultimately,  in  the  case  of  a  few  individuals,  devel- 
oped into  a  passion.  Ability  to  discern  utilities  and  make  the 
requisite  adjustments  was,  and  still  is,  recognized  as  a  form  of 
genius  —  the  inventive  genius  of  man.  A  small  but  increasing 
proportion  of  the  population  devoted  themselves  more  or  less 
exclusively  to  this  task.  At  the  outset  the  work  was  chiefly 
constructive  and  consisted  in  mentally  representing  a  useful 
object,  its  form,  and  size,  its  adaptation  and  purpose,  and  then 
in  proceeding  to  fashion  it  out  of  the  materials  most  fit  and 
accessible.  The  simpler  the  laws  involved  the  greater  the 
labor  of  construction,  so  that  many  of  the  earlier  inventions 
were  what  are  now  regarded  as  merely  the  products  of  unskilled 
labor.  But  in  the  infancy  of  the  race  all  labor  was  skilled. 
Labor  itself,  if  it  results  in  anything,  involves  the  element  of 
skill. 1  In  early  times  labor  and  skill  were  undifferentiated. 
Invention  and  construction  seemed  one  and  the  same. 

Not  to  dwell  on  the  details,  the  important  truth  is  that  the 
development  of  inventive  genius  in  man  ultimately  resulted  in 
the  introduction  of  art.  It  caused  the  raw  materials  of  nature 
which  had  previously  constituted  his  only  resources  to  be  dis- 
carded and  replaced  more  and  more,  and  at  length  almost  ex- 
clusively, by  artificial  products.  So  nearly  is  this  transforma- 
tion complete  in  modern  civilized  countries  that  the  fact  is  lost 
sight  of  even  by  political  economists.  That  is,  they  find  it  so 
universal  that  they  come  to  regard  it  as  the  natural  condition. 
This  leads  them  into  the  greatest  absurdities.  The  biological 
school,  which  may  still  be  said  to  be  the  predominant  one,  is 
fond  of  treating  civilization  as  the  product  of  natural  forces  and 
of  inveighing  against  everything  that  any  one  attempts  to  do 
to  modify  or  in  any  way  interfere  with  those  forces,  forgetting 

1  AH  labor  is  mental.  To  a  large  and  controlling  extent  the  mental  element  is 
present  in  the  simplest  operations.  With  the  laborer  who  shovels  in  the  gravel  pit 
the  directing  and  controlling  influence  of  the  mind  predominates,  to  an  indefinite 
extent,  over  the  simple  foot-pounds  of  mechanical  force  which  he  exerts.  —  J.  B. 
Clark:  Philosophy  of  Wealth,  p.  21. 


200  Objective  Facial's. 

entirely  that  civilization  in  all  its  essential  characteristics  is  an 
exclusively  artificial  product,  the  product  of  the  inventive 
genius  of  man  in  modifying  and  altering  the  course  of  nature. 
Every  adjustment  made  at  the  behest  of  inventive  genius  is  an 
interference  with  the  course  of  natural  law.  Every  object  of 
art  is  such  as  nature  never  would  have  created.  When  one 
looks  about  and  realizes  how  extremely  seldom  any  other  class 
of  objects  are  ever  used  by  man,  some  idea  may  be  gained  of 
the  intensely  artificial  character  of  civilization.  But  this  is  as 
it  should  be,  for  everywhere  the  artificial  is  superior  to  the 
natural,  and  what  is  called  progress  consists  in  making  every- 
thing more  and  more  artificial,  i.  e.,  in  putting  more  art  into  all 
products,  discovering  new  and  added  utilities  by  calling  into 
play  still  higher  flights  of  inventive  genius. 

In  Chapter  XIV  it  was  shown  that  the  great  subjective  factor 
of  mind,  the  soul  or  will  of  nature,  constitutes  a  transforming 
agency,  and  some  of  the  transformations  accomplished  by  it 
were  recounted.  Most  of  those  there  enumerated  belonged  to 
the  subhuman  stage  of  development,  those  of  the  human  stage 
being  purposely  omitted  because  a  new  and  as  yet  unexplained 
factor  entered  into  them.  That  factor  is  now  under  considera- 
tion. The  great  psychic,  or  as  it  now  becomes,  social  force 
was  undiminished  and  constituted  the  impelling  factor,  but  it 
could  accomplish  little  without  the  aid  of  the  intellect  in  the 
form  of  an  inventive  faculty  as  a  directive  factor.  With  both 
factors  at  work  the  transformation  became  rapid  and  per- 
manent. Nothing  equal  or  at  all  comparable  to  it  had  ever 
before  been  accomplished.  It  could  not  await  the  slow 
methods  of  nature  in  bringing  about  after  millions  of  genera- 
tions the  anatomical  modifications  that  were  referred  to.  It 
worked  directly  upon  the  environment  radically  changing  it 
and  rendering  structural  adaptations  unnecessary.  This  may 
be  why  man  has  really  undergone  so  few  of  the  latter.  Struct- 
ural modifications  can  only  go  on  under  the  influence  of  an 
environmental    pressure    in   the   given   direction.     But   if   the 


Inventive  Genins.  201 

moment  such  a  pressure  is  felt  it  is  immediately  relieved  by  an 
artificial  device,  the  cause  of  the  change  is  removed  and  the 
tendency  to  change  ceases.  This  was  practically  done  in  the 
case  of  man,  invention  being  constantly  directed  toward  the 
relief  of  environmental  pressure  and  along  the  line  of  free 
activity  in  the  satisfaction  of  desire. 

It  is  on  these  grounds  that  I  have  maintained  in  Dynamic 
Sociology  that  material  civilization  has  constituted  a  true 
human  progress  under  the  rigid  definition  there  given  of  what 
progress  is,  viz.,  increased  happiness.  For  happiness  consists 
in  the  continuous  satisfaction  of  the  desires  as  they  arise,  and 
its  increase  results  from  multiplying  the  desires  that  can  be 
thus  satisfied.  This  material  civilization  accomplishes  by  im- 
proving the  quality  of  everything  that  man  uses  in  his  daily  life 
and  introducing  new  means  of  satisfying  new  and  higher  wants. 
It  is  true  that  the  introduction  of  the  arts,  the  products  of  in- 
ventive genius,  has  entailed  upon  mankind  the  necessity  of 
labor,  and  in  most  ages  and  countries  this  has  been  a  severe 
hardship  upon  the  great  mass,  but  there  are  some  extenuating 
circumstances.  The  first  of  these  is  that  it  is  only  by  labor 
that  so  large  a  number  of  human  beings  can  live  on  the  earth. 
It  is  the  condition  to  their  existence.  The  choice  lies  between 
labor  and  extinction.  Without  the  arts  which  render  labor 
necessary  the  earth  would  support  a  much  less  numerous 
population.  The  question,  therefore,  is  narrowed  down  to- 
whether  a  life  of  labor  is  better  than  no  life.  If  life,  such  as  it 
is,  is  a  gain,  then  is  the  opportunity  to  labor,  i.  e.,  civilization,, 
a  means  of  progress.  But  if  it  be  said  that  this  hardship  is  due 
to  the  unjust  distribution  of  the  products  of  labor,  then  the 
answer  must  be  that  this  is  not  chargeable  to  inventive  genius 
but  to  rapacity,  which  is  a  form  of  the  egoistic  faculty,  and  that 
it  presents  a  problem  for  the  sociologist.  Finally,  the  hardship 
is  often  caused  by  the  influence  of  those  rapid  transitions 
which  characterize  intellectual  as  distinguished  from  the  lower 
agencies  of  nature,  and  which  do  not  leave  time  enough  for  the 


202  Objective  Factors. 

proper  adjustments  to  suit  the  new  conditions.  Such  a  transi- 
tion has  recently  taken  place  by  the  sudden  revolution  in 
modes  of  production  caused  by  the  introduction  of  machinery, 
and  it  will  require  a  long  time  for  the  laborer  to  regain  the  hold 
on  the  profits  of  his  labor  which  he  had  before  the  commence- 
ment of  this  era. 

A  broad  distinction  is  usually  made  between  mechanical 
invention  and  scientific  discovery,  between  the  Henrys  who 
discover  the  laws  of  electricity  and  the  Morses  who  invent 
telegraphic  alphabets.  The  difference  is  certainly  striking  in 
such  extreme  cases,  but  there  are  all  gradations  between  them. 
In  all  cases  there  is  a  perception  of  relations  existing  among 
physical  phenomena,  the  qualities  of  substances,  and  the  nature 
of  mechanical  movements.  The  extent  to  which  attention  is 
directed  to  the  adjustments  necessary  to  realize  the  utilities 
varies.  Where  such  adjustments  are  the  primary  considera- 
tion, it  is  pure  invention.  Where  these  are  made  secondary, 
and  attention  is  concentrated  upon  the  laws  and  processes,  it 
is  chiefly  discovery.  The  distinction  is  nearly  the  same  as 
that  between  science  and  empiricism.  It  is  not  widely  dif- 
ferent from  that  between  science  and  art.  There  can  be  no 
successful  empiricism,  no  true  art,  without  an  accurate  percep- 
tion of  the  relations  involved.  There  may  be,  however,  pure 
discovery  without  any  application  of  natural  principles.  That 
is,  there  may  be  science  without  art,  but  there  cannot  be  art 
without  science  in  the  full  meaning  of  that  term.  And  in 
cases  of  pure,  i.  e.,  unapplied  science  it  is  always  felt  that  its 
purpose  has  not  yet  been  attained,  that  its  application  is  still 
to  be  made,  and  that  until  it  is  made  science  is  without  value. 
This  applies  even  to  those  cases  in  which,  at  the  time  of  a 
scientific  discovery,  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  any  practical 
use  to  which  it  can  be  put.  Those  who  contend  for  the  free 
exercise  of  the  scientific  powers  untramnicled  by  considerations 
of  practical  utility  maintain  that  truth  thus  brought  to  light  is 
certainly  destined  to  be  useful  at  some  future  time,  and  they 


Inventive  Genius.  203 

point  to  the  labors  of  Volta  and  Galvani  actuated  purely  by  the 
love  of  discovery  and  without  the  slightest  conception  of  the 
infinite  possibilities  of  electricity.  Truth  is  rightly  conceived 
as  always  possessing  at  least  a  potential  utility  and,  therefore, 
as  always  worthy  of  investigation.  But  a  still  higher  ground 
is  also  properly  taken.  Even  could  it  be  known  that  no 
mechanical  inventions,  no  practical  arts,  could  ever  flow  from 
a  given  discovery,  it  is  maintained  that  the  truth  thus  made 
known  is  worth  pursuing  for  its  own  sake.  By  this  is  meant 
that  there  are  other  utilities  than  the  purely  material  ones. 
Not  merely  either  that  the  intellectual  enjoyment  of  knowing 
such  truths  is  itself  a  utility  of  the  highest  order,  which  is 
true,  but  that  such  knowledge  cannot  fail  to  prove  of  practical 
value  to  those  possessing  it  in  serving  as  a  guide  to  conduct. 
It  helps  to  complete  that  knowledge  of  their  environment, 
which,  taken  together,  furnishes  the  rule  of  action  and  the  key 
to  success.  It  has  been  proved  that  crime  may  be  prevented 
by  broadening  the  mind  of  the  criminal  with  knowledge  that 
he  can  never  make  any  direct  use  of,  and  I  have  myself  main- 
tained, and  still  believe,  that  astronomy  is  a  more  practical  sub- 
ject than  ethics  to  teach  to  the  criminal  class. 

To  the  account  of  inventive  genius,  then,  in  the  broadest 
sense  of  the  term,  must  be  set  down  the  spirit  of  scientific 
inquiry  and  the  passion  for  original  research  which  so  largely 
characterize  the  modern  age,  and  which  have  wrought  such  a 
momentous  change  in  the  character  of  civilization  and  the  con- 
dition of  society.  The  theme  is  much  too  common  to  need 
illustration  or  elaboration,  and  it  is  sufficient  for  the  present 
purpose  to  have  fixed  its  position  in  the  general  train  of 
psychic  events  that  have  succeeded  one  another  in  the  upward 
progress  of  an  evolving  race. 

One  question  remains.  Is  the  inventive  genius  of  man  sus- 
ceptible of  cultivation .-'  In  view  of  its  unquestioned  value  to 
the  world  and  its  freedom  from  all  the  evil  tendencies  shown 
to  inhere  in  the  lower  purely  egoistic  forms  of   the  primary 


204  Objective  Factors. 

intellectual  faculty,  it  would  seem  that  the  more  there  were  of 
it  the  better.  Is  it  as  high  already  as  it  is  possible  for  it  to 
rise  ?  If  not,  is  it  possible  to  raise  it  higher  by  any  artificial 
means  ?     These  questions  may  be  answered  separately. 

The  great  length  to  which  the  inventive  spirit  has  actually 
been  carried,  the  number  of  individuals  who  are  devoting 
themselves  to  invention,  and  the  multitude  of  attempts  that 
are  yearly  made  to  utilize  some  new  principle  or  improve  upon 
some  mechanism  already  discovered,  as  shown  by  the  models 
submitted  for  patent  in  the  enlightened  nations  of  the  world, 
give  the  general  impression  that  the  inventive  spirit  is  as 
active  as  it  need  be  for  the  healthy  development  of  the 
mechanical  arts.  The  fact  that  the  love  of  invention  becomes 
with  many  a  ruling  passion,  and  that,  as  with  all  useful  mental 
qualities,  it  sometimes  runs  to  extremes,  as  seen  in  Keely 
motors  and  devices  to  secure  perpetual  motion  —  all  this  tends 
to  strengthen  the  common  belief  that  this  faculty  at  least  can 
maintain  itself  without  any  effort  on  the  part  of  society.  A 
little  reflection,  however,  should  make  it  apparent  that  these 
facts  are  really  only  so  many  arguments  for  the  systematic 
training  of  the  inventive  faculty.  Its  great  intensity  argues 
for  checks,  regulation,  broadening,  and  deepening.  The  num- 
ber of  inoperative  mechanisms  and  preoccupied  principles  for 
which  patents  are  sought,  proves  the  need  of  wider  information 
on  the  part  of  the  public  relative  to  all  such  matters.  The 
attempts  to  apply  imaginary  principles  show  that  knowledge  is 
as  necessary  to  successful  invention  as  zeal  in  its  prosecution. 

Granting  that  the  inventive  spirit  is  as  strong  as  it  needs  to 
be,  granting  that  no  form  of  education  could  act  directly-  to 
increase  the  native  supply  of  inventive  genius  in  any  indi- 
vidual, and  that  this  is  a  matter  of  heredity  alone,  there  still 
remains  the  argument  that  this  talent,  like  every  other,  is  likely 
to  remain  forever  dormant  unless  called  out  by  some  combi- 
nation of  external  circumstances.  Education  properly  under- 
stood is  little  more,  at  best,  than  the  creation  of  an  artificial 


Inventive  Genius.  205 

environment  calculated  to  call  into  exercise  all  the  latent  talents 
of  those  who  receive  it.  The  number  manifesting  this  kind 
of  genius  may,  therefore,  be  greatly  increased  through  a  form  of 
education  which  should  be  really  adapted  to  calling  it  forth. 

It  may  be  said  that  this  would  simply  multiply  the  number 
of  models  and  flood  the  world  with  machines  that  could  not  be 
used.  This  objection  suggests  the  main  argument  for  the 
education  of  the  inventive  faculty.  Civilization  has  really 
advanced  in  exact  proportion  to  the  extent  to  which  society 
was  prepared  to  employ  the  arts  brought  out  by  the  inventive 
genius  of  a  small  proportion  of  its  members.  This  is  no 
measure  of  the  degree  of  art  that  it  would  have  been  possible 
to  attain.  In  other  words  the  advance  has  been  in  proportion 
to  the  demand  which  is  no  measure  of  the  possible  supply. 
The  latter,  it  would  seem,  will  always  equal  the  former  no 
matter  how  great  it  may  be.  The  fact  that  modern  civilization 
employs  many  thousand  times  as  much  art  as  ancient  society 
employed,  and  continues  to  employ  more  and  more,  shows  that 
there  is  no  necessary  limit  to  the  extent  to  which  inventive 
genius  may  benefit  mankind.  The  way  to  bring  this  about  is 
to  increase  the  demand,  that  is,  to  increase  the  capacity  of 
society  for  receiving  and  appreciating  these  benefits.  It  is  not 
the  inventor  who  needs  educating  but  the  user  of  his  inven- 
tions, i.  e.,  the  general  public.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  while  in- 
ventors are  indeed  rare,  those  who  are  really  qualified  to  use 
inventions  are  also  rare.  It  is  astonishing  to  note  how  few 
persons  have  any  idea  of  the  nature  of  any  mechanism  at  all 
complicated.  When  fountain  pens  were  first  invented  many 
of  my  friends  obtained  them  and  endeavored  to  use  them,  but 
I  know  of  none  who  did  not  soon  discard  them  because  the 
few  directions  necessary  to  keep  them  in  order  were  too  in- 
tricate or  too  troublesome  to  follow.  They  gave  no  thought 
to  the  principle  involved  in  the  mechanism  and  could  not  see 
why  they  might  not  as  well  be  kept  one  end  up  as  the  other. ^ 

1  I  am  writing  this  with  one  of  the  old-fashioned  ones  that  I  have  used  every 
day  for  fifteen  years. 


2o6  Objective  Factors. 

Every  one  knows  how  difficult  it  is  to  make  servants  attend  to 
any  but  the  simplest  utensils,  and  housewives  are  as  a  rule 
equally  ignorant  of  such  matters.  Wherever  there  is  a  furnace 
or  any  other  of  the  modern  kinds  of  heater  in  a  house,  it  is 
found  necessary  for  some  person  of  judgment  and  intelligence 
to  take  its  management  in  charge.  The  female  sex,  as  pre- 
viously shown,  is  especially  deficient  in  this  form  of  perspi- 
cacity. I  have  recently  seen  a  lady  with  a  letter  in  her  hand 
approach  a  letter  box,  on  the  lid  of  which  was  plainly  stamped 
in  relief  letters  the  words  "pull  down,"  and  after  going  several 
times  round  it  and  doing  everything  but  the  right  one,  finally 
go  away  and  give  her  letter  to  a  drug  store  clerk  to  mail 
for  her.i 

Not  only  can  there  be  little  progress  in  the  arts  of  civiliza- 
tion while  the  mass  of  mankind  has  so  little  power  to  appreciate 
or  ability  to  employ  them,  but  the  progress  that  takes  place  is 
an  awkward  and  unnatural  one.  The  public  is  constantly 
using  what  it  does  not  understand,  involving  a  vast  amount  of 
destruction  and  waste,  and  making  society  dependent  upon  a 
few  experts.  What  is  not  understood  cannot  be  properly  used, 
and  condemnation  and  complaint  arc  followed  by  rejection, 
whereby  the  demand  is  lowered.  Old-fashioned  and  laborious 
methods  are  preferred  to  modern  rapid  and  labor-saving  devices. 
In  these  and  a  thousand  other  ways  society  is  kept  from  ad- 
vancing by  popular  ignorance  of  the  underlying  principles  of 
art.  The  worst  of  all  perhaps  is  the  ignorance  of  mechanics 
themselves.  They  only  know  exactly  what  they  are  taught 
while  learning  their  trades  and  the  least  thing  out  of  the  beaten 
track  confounds  them  completely.  It  is,  for  example,  almost 
impossible  for  any  one  who  has  ideas  of  his  own  to  have  a 
house  built  in  conformity  with  his  ideas.  The  workmen  will 
have  "never  heard  of  such  a  thing,"  will  object  and  prevari- 

^  An  iinrefiected  light  did  never  yet 
Dazzle  the  vision  feminine. 
Sir  Henry  Taylor  :  Pliilip  Van  Artcveldc,  Part  I,  Act  i,  Scene  5. 


Inventive  Ge^tius.  207 

cate,  and  cause  unlimited  trouble  rather  than  swerve  a  hair 
from  some  fixed  rule  of  thumb  that  makes  every  house  an 
exact  copy  of  every  other.  But  there  would  be  no  end  if  it 
were  sought  to  present  all  the  examples  that  occur  to  the  mind 
whenever  the  subject  is  before  it.^ 

Even  if  it  be  objected  that  the  mind  cannot  be  trained  to 
invent,  it  at  least  cannot  be  denied  that  the  mechanical  prin- 
ciples on  which  all  the  most  common  contrivances,  machines, 
and  artificial  objects  generally,  which  are  in  daily  use  are  con- 
structed, may  be  explained  and  really  taught  to  every  pupil  of 
either  sex.  It  may  be  that  much  of  it  would  be  transient  in 
the  minds  of  many.  This  is  true  of  all  things.  But  much 
would  abide  and  bear  fruit  in  later  years,  while  object  lessons 
of  this  class  would  be  less  likely  to  be  forgotten  than  almost 
anything  else  in  education.  The  recent  movement  in  the 
direction  of  manual  training  is  the  result  of  a  growing  recog- 
nition of  the  need  of  knowing  hozv  as  well  as  merely  knowing 
ivJiat.  The  pitiful  helplessness  of  city-bred  persons  when 
thrown  into  contact  with  nature  has  long  been  manifest,  as 
well  as  the  fact  that  the  best  minds  in  every  department  are 
those  that  have  imbibed  from  an  early  rural  life,  however 
Arcadian,  some  knowledge  of  nature's  ways,  which  later  stands 
them  in  as  an  aid  to  success.  It  would  be  an  easy  and  natural 
adjunct  to  a  system  of  manual  training  to  make  it  include  full 
and  thorough  instruction  in  the  mechanical  principles  of  most 
great  inventions  and  also  of  those  most  familiar  to  the  pupil. 
But  beyond  this  it  must  be  maintained  that  the  mind  can  be 
trained  to  look  for  utilities,  instructed  to  be  ever  on  the  alert 
for  practical  principles  and  effective  adjustments  calculated  to 
utilize  natural  forces,  qualities,  and  objects,  to  set  the  inventive 
faculty  to  work,  and  thereby,  virtually  if  not  literally,  increase, 
develop,  and  stimulate  the  inventive  genius  of  man. 

1  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  has  given  a  number  of  other  good  examples  in  his  Study 
of  Sociology,  pp.  304-305. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

CREATIVE    GENIUS. 

The  love  of  the  beautiful,  l)otli  in  sight  and  sound,  has  ever  been  and 
ever  must  be  a  reliable  social  force,  ready  to  manifest  its  power  on  every 
occasion,  whenever  the  great  vital  demands  of  existence  cease  to  absorb 
the  energies  of  society.  In  proportion  as  man's  plnsical  wants  are  sup- 
plied, and  his  social  and  sexual  relations  placed  upon  a  natural  and  satis- 
factory footing,  the  practical  arts,  the  industrial  character,  and  the  cold 
business  features  of  human  life  will  be  relieved,  subdued,  and  embellished 
by  the  softening  and  cheering  presence  of  works  of  art,  and  by  the  per- 
petual charm  of  music  and  poetry. — Dynatnic  Sociology,  I,  674. 

The  eye  of  tlie  intellect  sees  in  all  objects  what  it  l)rought  with  it  the 
means  of  seeing.  —  Carlyle. 

In  Part  I  was  considered,  from  the  standpoint  of  its  origin 
and  genesis,  the  great  primary  psychic  trunk  —  the  feelings  — 
with  its  roots  far  down  in  the  bathybian  ooze  of  organic 
life.  Thus  far,  in  Part  II,  attention  has  been  confined  to 
the  principal  secondary  trunk  or  dominant  branch  —  the 
intuitive  intellect  —  which  began  to  diverge  from  the  main 
trunk  coincidently  with  the  appearance  of  the  highest  insects 
and  the  earliest  birds  and  mammals,  near  the  beginning  of 
Cenozoic  or  Tertiary  time.  This  groat  branch,  as  has  been 
seen,  was  twofold,  though  not  bifurcate  or  divergent,  and  may 
be  figuratively  represented  as  double,  or  consisting  of  two 
approximate  or  contiguous  complementary  trunks,  an  active, 
positive,  and  progressive  male  trunk,  representing  biological 
variation  and  adaptation,  and  a  passive,  negative,  and  con- 
servative female  trunk,  representing  heredity.  The  active 
trunk  assumed  the  several  forms  described  as  intuitive  percep- 
tion, intuitive  reason,  and  the  inventive  faculty  ;  the  passive 
trunk    consists   of  the    intuitive   judgment    typified  by  female 


Creative   Geniiis.  209 

intuition.  These  forms  of  intellectual  manifestation  were 
developed  out  of  the  primary  psychic  trunk  as  accessories  to, 
and  servants  of  the  will,  for  the  better  accomplishment  of  the 
object  of  sentient  life,  the  satisfaction  of  desire.  With  all  this 
philosophy  has  had  little  or  nothing  to  do. 

At  this  point  is  reached  the  domain  of  philosophy  as  it  has 
always  been  understood,  which,  it  is  thus  seen,  only  deals  with 
faculties  or  branches  of  the  intellect  which  are  secondary  in 
rank  and  derivative  in  character,  having  grown  out  of  the  main 
trunk  and  departed  more  or  less  from  the  original  nature  of  the 
intellectual  process.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  none  of  these  could 
by  any  possibility  have  been  developed  directly  from  nature. 
There  is  nothmg  upon  which  any  of  the  primary  biological  laws 
could  seize  to  give  an  initial  impulse  to  such  faculties.  For 
this  there  is  required  some  powerful  motive,  and  in  biology 
that  motive  always  is  advantage.  There  are  certain  mental 
qualities  which  are  admitted  to  be  exempt  from  the  biological 
law  of  advantage,  since  their  excercise  in  no  way  tends  to  render 
their  possessor  any  more  fit  to  survive  in  the  struggle  for 
existence.  Any  faculty  of  which  this  is  true  has  in  this  quality 
the  stamp  of  derivativeness  ;  has,  as  it  were,  a  modern  fades. 
When  SchojDcnhauer  insisted  with  so  much  force  and  truth  that 
the  intellect  was  a  mere  accident,  a  late  graft  upon  the  will  as 
the  main  psychic  trunk,  he  had  in  mind  only  the  intellect  of 
Kant  and  the  other  philosophers  who  ignored  the  great  intuitive 
branch  out  of  which  these  modern  disinterested,  and  therefore 
dependent  branches,  have  developed.  His  charge  was  therefore 
doubly  true  as  thus  restricted.  It  would  be  sufficiently  true  of 
all  intellect,  as  has  been  abundantly  shown,  but  intellect  proper, 
and  in  its  essential  nature,  as  a  servant  of  the  will  and  a  new 
means  of  securing  the  objects  of  sentient  life,  is  as  much  more 
ancient  than  the  derivative  intellect  of  the  philosophers  as  it  is 
more  modern  than  the  will  from  which  it  sprang. 

Of  all  these  modern,  derivative  outgrowths  of  the  primary 
and  original  intellect,  the  one  which  seems  to  be  genetically  the 


2IO  Objective  Factors. 

most  intimately  connected  with  it,  is  the  faculty  of  rearranging 
the  materials  in  the  possession  of  the  mind  into  new  forms, 
combinations,  and  relations.  The  old  philosophers  have  treated 
this  faculty  chiefly  in  its  passive  and  less  important  aspect  under 
the  head  of  imaginaticvi.  But  its  more  important  aspect  is  the 
active  one  in  which  it  is  seen  as  a  so-called  creative  faculty. 
Just  as  in  imagination  all  admit  that  nothing  can  be  constructed 
by  the  mind  whose  materials  were  not  all  there  already,  so  the 
term  creative  is  uniformly  understood  to  refer  to  the  elaboration 
of  ideas  already  existing,  the  only  thing  that  is  new  being  the 
form,  combination,  or  arrangement  of  these  ideas.  But  creation 
in  this  sense  differs  from  imagination  in  implying  that  the 
resultant  idea  is  strong  enough  to  produce  a  motor  discharge 
to  the  appropriate  muscles,  thus  causing  the  bodily  activities 
necessary  to  realize  the  ideal.  That  is  to  say,  the  active  form 
of  the  imagination  makes  something.  Here,  as  in  some  cases 
previously  referred  to,  language  supplies  a  link  in  the  evidence 
of  the  primary  process  afterwards  lost  sight  of.  For  among  the 
first  things  7nade  by  the  creative  faculty  were  literary  productions, 
and  the  earliest  form  of  these  was  the  poetic  form  ;  and  a  poem 
in  its  etymological  significance  is  simply  something  made. 

The  faculty,  however,  had  a  much  earlier  origin.  In  fact  it 
was  simply  a  development  from  the  inventive  faculty,  and  can 
be  successfully  affiliated  upon  that.  It  was  seen  that  so  soon 
as  that  faculty  had  fairly  cut  loose  from  the  lower  forms  of 
egoistic  intuition  and  began  to  be  independent  of  the  bodily 
desires  it  took  the  character  of  inventive  genius,  the  first  work 
of  which  was  the  fashioning  of  objects  of  utility.  Pari  passu 
with  this  intellectual  step  there  was  developing  a  rude  esthetic 
sentiment  which  began  to  furnish  a  new  attraction  and  to  become 
an  end  to  be  satisfied.  Its  earliest  form  was  probably  the  love 
of  ornamentation,  and  inventive  genius  was  directed  to  the 
production  of  such  objects  as  ministered  to  this  incipient  sense 
of  the  beautiful.  This  form  of  utility  was  felt  to  be  generically 
distinct  from  the  primary  form,  which  related  solely  to  the  sat- 


Creative  Genius.  2 1 1 

isfaction  of  real  wants  or  needs.  Hitherto  the  useful  was  that, 
and  that  only,  which  made  existence  possible  or  less  difficult. 
It  was  chiefly  limited  to  supplying  the  prime  necessities  of  life, 
food,  clothing,  shelter,  protection,  and  the  successive  improve- 
ments to  these.  It  was  soon  extended  to  the  means  of  increasins: 
the  quantity  and  quality  of  these  supplies,  and  at  length  to  the 
means  of  obtaining  any  form  of  property  or  wealth.  Whatever 
contributes  to  those  ends  is  recognized  as  practical,  and,  as 
already  stated,  it  is  inventive  genius  which  furnishes  the  practical 
arts.  Creative  genius,  on  the  contrary,  while  it  also  yields  a 
form  of  art,  ignores  the  practical  and  pursues  only  the  esthetic. 
It  results  in  what  are  popularly  distinguished  as  the  Jine  arts. 
But  the  distinction  is  not  always  well  defined.  There  are 
thousands  of  useful  objects  of  art  which  are  at  the  same  time 
ornamental,  and  wherever  this  is  the  case,  both  inventive  and 
creative  genius  have  been  at  work  ;  the  useful  part  has  resulted 
from  the  former  and  the  esthetic  part  from  the  latter.  One  of 
the  great  departments  of  fine  art,  viz.,  architecture,  occupies  an 
intermediate  place  between  the  two.  History  shows  that  at  the 
outset  domestic  architecture  belonged  exclusively  to  the  practical 
arts  while  religious  architecture  was  chiefly  a  fine  art.  In  many 
parts  of  the  world  this  is  still  largely  the  case.  In  the  large  cities 
of  Mexico  the  only  buildings  over  two  stories  in  height  are  the 
churches  and  these  are  almost  the  only  ones  that  are  at  all 
embellished.  In  such  lands  it  would  seem  that  God  alone  is 
thought  worthy  to  dwell  in  a  beautiful  house. 

It  thus  appears  that  creative  genius  is  near  akin  to  inventive 
genius,  and  it  is  this  close  relationship  that  makes  it  necessary 
when  seeking  the  genesis  of  the  intellectual  faculties  to  place 
it  first  in  the  secondary  or  derivative  series.  Inventive  genius 
is  itself  derivative,  since  it  makes  its  own  operations  and 
products  an  end  instead  of  a  means  to  the  great  end  of  being, 
but  the  obvious  identity  of  its  modus  operandi  with  that  of  the 
inventive  faculty  in  its  primary  form,  where  this  was  not  the 
case,  renders  it  impossible  to  separate  them  in  a  logical  arrange- 


2 1  2  Objective  Factors. 

ment  of  the  intellectual  faculties.  It  is  here,  within  the  life 
history  of  that  form  of  intuition,  that  the  first  divergence  from 
the  primordial  egoistic  type  took  place.  But  creative  genius, 
which  has  cut  loose  not  only  from  self  but  from  everything 
practical  and  is  following  after  the  esthetic  alone,  constitutes 
a  distinct  branch  of  the  intellect,  leading  far  away  from  the 
original  intuitive  trunk. 

The  divergence  of  creation  from  invention  may  be  explained 
in  the  following  manner:  In  dealing  with  the  actual  materials 
and  forces  of  nature  the  mind  found  itself  constantly  hemmed 
in  by  facts.  It  could  only  go  so  far  when  it  would  gladly  go 
farther.  The  brain  had  registered  a  thousand  perceptions  from 
observation  and  experience  which  could  not  be  realized  in  the 
inventive  product.  That  could  only  embody  so  much  as  could 
be  made  to  conform  to  the  actual  environment.  An  invention 
is  therefore  a  compromise  between  the  ideal  of  the  inventor 
and  the  hard  facts  of  nature.  To  be  useful  it  must  respect 
the  latter.  Practical  art  can  only  rise  so  high.  Above  the 
limit  its  practical  character  is  lost  and  it  becomes  merely 
ornamental.  But  the  mind  itself,  untrammeled  by  material 
conditions,  possesses  the  power  of  selecting  from  among  all  its 
airy  materials  just  such  as  it  esteems  the  best,  and  of  combining 
these  into  any  desired  form,  thus  mentally  realizing  its  highest 
ideal.  And  having  thus  constructed  a  mental  image  the  passion 
for  beauty  is  often  strong  enough  to  impel  the  execution  of  this 
ideal  with  greater  or  less  fidelity  and  its  reproduction  in  visible 
or  audible  form  by  means  of  the  appropriate  material  adjust- 
ments. This  latter  part  is  always  the  result  of  skill  prompted 
by  vivid  mental  representative  power  and  usually  prolonged 
labor.  In  the  execution  of  a  statue  or  a  painting,  or  in  the 
production  of  a  poem  or  a  romance,  the  mind  is  set  free  from 
the  stern  realities  of  the  world,  unimpeded  by  the  properties 
of  material  bodies  or  the  natuix-  of  physical  forces,  and  only 
limited  by  the  mental  and  muscular  j)owers  of  representation 
anrl   execution,  and   the   tools   and    materials   employed    in    the 


Creative  Genuis.  213 

work.  But  objects  thus  created  can  have  no  practical  value 
in  the  popular  sense;  they  can  only  contribute  to  esthetic 
gratification. 

Schopenhauer  maintained  that  this  pursuit  of  pure  ideals, 
this  contemplation  of  nature  apart  from  utility,  might  be  carried 
so  far  as  to  constitute  a  denial  of  the  will  to  live,  and  a  complete 
identification  of  the  subject  with  the  object.  This  is  one  of 
the  few  cases  in  which  his  zeal  for  a  favorite  theory  led  him 
astray  from  the  path  of  sound  logic.  For  he  rightly  maintained 
that  pleasure  was  the  satisfaction  of  desire  and  that  the  will 
was  a  blind  pursuit  of  pleasure.  He  also  held  that  the  denial 
of  the  will  was  an  abnegation  of  pleasure  and  if  complete 
would  reduce  life  itself  to  zero.  And  yet  in  his  apotheosis  of 
art  we  actually  find  him  using  language  which  implies  the 
recognition  of  pleasure  derived  from  the  act  of  denying  the 
will.  Such  expressions  as  "esthetic  enjoyment"  [dsthetischcr 
Gennss),  "joy  in  the  beautiful"  {Frciide  am  Schoncn),  "happi- 
ness and  mental  repose  "  {Scligkeit  imd  GeistesruJic),  as  well  as 
his  stronger  statements  that  the  pure  willless  cognition  of  the 
beauty  of  nature  is  the  only  pure  happiness,  and  that  moments 
in  which  we  are  freed  from  the  pressure  of  the  will  are  the 
happiest  that  we  know,  betray  a  remarkable  confusion  in  his 
ideas  both  of  pleasure  and  will. 

This  point  of  view  is  of  interest  here  in  illustrating  the 
important  fact  that  with  the  creative  faculty,  and  to  a  great 
degree  with  the  inventive  genius,  the  will  itself  in  Schopen- 
hauer's acceptation  took  on  a  considerable  extension;  that 
the  brain  had  now  become  an  emotional  center  and  seat  of 
enjoyment,  and  that  henceforth  the  mind  itself  was  to  have 
desires  to  satisfy,  and  to  become  in  so  far  itself  a  dynamic 
factor  or  psychic  force. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

SPFXULATIVE   GENIUS. 

The  developing  intellect  was  at  the  outset  placed  face  to  face  with  two 
classes  of  phenomena,  not  indeed  generically  distinct,  but  whose  extremes 
present  vast  differences  in  many  respects.  One  class  embraced  the  simple 
mechanical  phenomena  which  lie  upon  the  surface  of  nature,  and  which 
were  fortunately  of  the  greatest  immediate  practical  importance  to  the 
physical  life  of  the  race.  The  other  class  embraced  all  the  deeper  cosmical 
phenomena,  of  vast  importance  to  a  developed  race,  but  with  which  primitive 
man  really  need  have  had  little  to  do.  The  lower  animals  do  not  appear  to 
have  any  thoughts  whatever  about  this  class  of  natural  events,  although 
thev  manifest  considerable  accpiaintance  with  the  other  class  which  mate- 
rially improves  their  ability  to  provide  their  own  subsistence.  But  to  the 
uninstructed  intellect  of  primitive  man  no  distinction  in  point  of  importance 
was  recognized  between  these  two  classes  of  phenomena,  and  it  immediately 
began  to  manufacture  beliefs  from  both  classes  alike.  The  impossibility 
of  comprehending  those  of  the  deeper  and  more  recondite  class  led  at  once 
to  the  adoption  of  all  the  errors  attendant  upon  the  fundamentally  erroneous 
supernatural  explanation,  and  gave  rise  to  religion  as  an  inseparable  element 
in  the  future  culture  and  progress  of  the  race. — Dyiuvnic  Sociology,  II, 
273-274. 

So  far  as  the  development  of  brain  mass  and  consequent  brain  power  is 
concerned,  it  must  be  conceded  that  no  "  character  "  could  possibly  be  more 
directly  the  subject  of  natural  selection,  since  the  primal  quality  of  brain  is 
cunning,  and  this  is  more  important  in  fitting  a  creature  to  survive  than  any 
other  attribute.  It  is,  therefore,  only  in  the  cases  of  certain  derivative 
faculties  that  have  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  the  fitness  to  survive,  many 
of  them  rendering  man  unfit  and  almost  helpless  in  the  struggle  for  existence, 
that  we  find  the  really  strong  claims  of  those  who  advocate  the  doctrine  of 
tlic  inheritance  of  acquired  mental  qualities,  or  post-natal  increments  to 
faculties  already  existing.  Wliat  arc  tliese  qualities?  Dr.  Wallace  believes 
them  to  consist  chiefly  of  the  matliematical,  the  esthetic  (sculpture,  painting, 
etc.),  and  the  musical  ;  but  he  also  very  properly  mentions  tlie  power  of 
abstract  reasoning,  the  metaphysical  faculty,  or  talent  for  abstruse  specula- 
tion, that  which  gives  rise  to  wit  and  humor,  and  the  moral  or  ethical 
attributes.     Others  might  be  enumerated,  sucli  as  the  talent  for  scientific 


Spcnilative  Genius.  215 

observation,  for  laboratory  experimentation,  for  mechanical  invention,  and 
for  literary  research  ;  and,  in  general,  all  the  powers  of  mental  application, 
abstraction,  and  attention,  of  study,  and  of  investigation,  by  which  knowl- 
edge has  been  increased. —  The  Forum,  Vol.  XI,  New  York,  May,  1891, 
pp.  315-316. 

The  power  of  Thought,  —  the  magic  of  the  Mind  !  —  BvRox :  77/1?  Corsair, 
Canto  I,  Stanza  8. 

On  earth  there  is  nothing  great  but  man  ;  in  man,  there  is  nothing  great 
but  mind.  —  Sir  William  Hamilton. 

In  the  evolution  of  the  human  mind,  the  instinct  of  cosmic  interrogation 
follows  hard  upon  the  instinct  of  self-preservation.  —  J.  W.   Powell. 

Under  the  head  of  speculative  genius  I  shall  include  all  the 
disinterested  or  non-egoistic  intellectual  faculties  or  attributes 
not  embraced  by  either  inventive  genius  or  creative  genius  as 
above  defined.  As  the  former  was  extended  to  include  the 
faculty  of  scientific  discovery,  which  might  also  in  a  certain 
sense  be  called  sj^eculative,  we  are  here  chiefly  limited  to  what 
is  commonly  embraced  under  the  term  philosophy  as  distin- 
guished from  science,  and  have  now  to  inquire  what  the 
attributes  are  that  speculative  philosophy  in  its  widest  sense 
calls  into  exercise.  We  are  also  concerned  with  the  precise 
manner  in  which,  and  the  particular  egoistic  faculty  out  of 
which,  these  attributes  have  been  developed.  Following  the 
genetic  method  which  has  been  employed  from  the  first  it  will 
be  necessary  to  seek  an  answer  to  the  last  of  these  questions 
first,  in  the  hope  that  this  may  lead  to  a  solution  of  the  others. 

The  inventive  faculty  after  it  threw  off  its  allegiance  to  the 
will,  or,  more  properly,  after  it  had  created  a  new  conative 
center  in  the  brain,  began,  as  was  shown,  to  busy  itself  with 
the  wider  relations  subsisting  between  all  the  observed  facts 
of  nature,  whereby  it  was  able  to  discover  truth  and  lead  the 
way  to  science.  Still  having  as  its  primary  purpose  the  dis- 
cernment of  utilities,  first  to  self  and  later  to  all  men,  it 
nevertheless  soon  encountered  relations  and  began  to  discover 


2  1 6  Objective  Factors. 

truths  whose  utility  cither  to  self  or  to  mankind  was  doubtful 
or  even  imperceptible  —  truths  which  were  beyond  its  power 
to  seize  upon  and  convert  through  any  exercise  of  ingenuity  to 
human  use.  The  sun,  moon,  and  stars  were  perceived  to  have 
definite  relations  of  direction,  motion,  and  distance  from  one 
another,  but  the  mind  had  no  power  to  modify  these  relations. 
The  mountains  loomed  up  in  the  distant  horizon  against  the 
background  of  sky,  but  no  effort  of  will  or  of  muscle  could 
raise  or  lower  them  or  alter  their  form.  The  sea  lashed  the 
beach  with  its  incessant  roar,  but  man  was  powerless  to 
increase  or  diminish  its  rhythmic  ebb  and  flow.  The  rivers 
swept  on  in  their  never-ceasing  rush  and  murmur  resistless  for 
the  puny  arms  of  man.  The  clouds  sped  across  the  sky  or 
floated  in  fantastic  ever-changing  forms  far  above  and  beyond 
the  reach  of  earth-chained  mortals.  And  so  it  was  on  all 
sides.  Everywhere  he  gazed,  man  beheld  objects  and  phe- 
nomena over  which  he  had  no  control,  and  which  were  to  him 
incomprehensible,  inscrutable,  and  unchangeable. 

Of  all  the  relations  that  the  intellect  most  strenuously 
sought  to  grasp,  that  of  causation  was  the  most  fascinating. 
The  principle  of  sufficient  reason  was  the  one  which  most 
strongly  asserted  itself,  for  it  was  only  through  this  that  the 
inventive  faculty  had  been  able  to  direct  the  simpler  and  more 
comprehensible  relations  within  its  scope.  And  it  is  possible 
that  the  still  egoistic  intellect  in  striving  to  master  these  wider 
relations  may  have  been,  at  least  at  first,  largely  influenced  by 
a  vague  sense  that  could  it  but  once  understand  them  it  might 
bend  even  these  to  its  selfish  uses.  When  storms  and  floods 
and  thunderbolts  rode  and  dashed  through  the  abodes  of  men 
scattering  havoc,  destruction,  and  death  in  their  path,  there 
might,  at  least,  have  lurked  in  the  audacious  brain  of  the  being 
who  had  already  grown  to  be  the  master  of  so  large  a  part  of 
nature  the  irreverent  belief  that  these  too  would  yet  be  made 
to  feel  his  power  and  bow  in  suppliance  to  his  ambitious 
will. 


speculative  Genius.  217 

Thus  began  the  great  and  long-protracted  quest  on  the  part 
of  the  growing  intellect  of  man  for  the  causes  of  the  unex- 
plained and  irresistible  phenomena  of  nature.  Its  own  power 
and  its  own  ways  it  well  knew.  The  power  and  the  ways  of 
nature  it  knew  not,  but  what  could  be  more  natural  than  to 
project  itself  behind  the  phenomena  of  nature  and  to  postulate 
the  same  or  similar  causes  and  methods  with  those  which  it 
employed  }  The  first  explanation  which  man  was  led  to  offer 
for  the  phenomena  of  the  universe  was  the  anthropomorphic 
explanation,  and  this,  it  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say,  is  still  the 
current  explanation  of  all  phenomena  for  which  no  natural 
explanation  is  known.  It  would  carry  me  too  far  afield  to 
undertake  to  point  out  in  detail  how  the  anthropomorphic 
theory  of  the  universe  became  at  the  same  time  the  theo- 
logical one,  but  such  appears  to  have  been  uniformly  the  case. 
Whether  the  man-power  behind  nature  was  contemplated  as 
single  and  the  theology  made  monotheistic,  or  whether,  as  was 
the  far  more  common  case,  it  was  regarded  as  multiple  and  the 
theology  made  polytheistic,  in  either  and  any  case  the  inscru- 
table and  unalterable  events  of  nature  were  conceived  as 
presided  over  by  intelligence  and  will  in  all  essential  aspects 
similar  to  those  of  man. 

Thus  arose  the  mythologies  of  the  world,  and  mythology  is 
neither  more  nor  less  than  theological  cosmology.  But  along 
with  the  theological  there  was  always  manifest  a  tendency  to  a 
rational  cosmology.  The  former  was  felt  by  the  best  minds  of 
every  race  to  be  a  sort  of  igiiava  ratio,  an  attempt  to  escape 
the  severer  intellectual  effort  really  to  explain  phenomena,  and 
therefore  along  with  it  we  find  associated  a  great  number  of 
partly  theological  and  partly  rational  cosmologies.  This  was 
the  case  in  ancient  Greece  as  well  as  in  most  of  the  early 
civilizations,  and  became  increasingly  so  in  the  two  or  three 
centuries  which  preceded  the  scientific  era.  Since  the  begin- 
ning of  that  era  there  has  been  a  marked  and  rapid  differentia- 
tion of  these  two  kinds  of  cosmology,  so  that  at  the  present  time 


2i8  Objective  Factors. 

in  all  enlightened  countries  there  exists  a  purely  theological 
alongside  of  a  purely  rational  cosmology.  With  the  flood  of 
knowledge  which  the  invention  of  printing,  the  circumnaviga- 
tion of  the  globe,  the  extension  of  the  world's  commerce,  and 
the  great  scientific  discoveries  of  Kepler,  Galileo,  and  Newton 
poured  in  upon  the  world  during  the  i6th  and  17th  centuries 
the  speculative  genius  of  man  was  furnished  with  the  necessary 
data  for  inaugurating  a  rational  philosophy  of  the  universe, 
which,  supplemented  by  the  additional  light  of  the  i8th  and 
19th  centuries  of  scientific  investigation,  has  become,  under 
the  guiding  principles  of  gravitation,  ev^olution,  and  the  con- 
ser\'ation  of  energy,  so  complete  as  to  dispense  entirely  in  the 
minds  of  many  w'ith  the  theological  hypothesis,  except  in  some 
highly  generalized  form. 

But  the  speculative  faculty  early  took  another  direction  and 
turned  itself  inward  upon  itself.  It  w^as  not  enough  that  it 
should  seek  the  explanation  of  the  phenomena  of  the  universe, 
it  must  also  seek  an  explanation  of  those  of  mind.  Here,  as 
stated  in  the  introduction,  and  as  frequently  intimated  in 
different  chapters  of  this  work,  it  was  much  less  fortunate,  in 
that  it  confined  itself  to  the  higher  and  more  complex  of  those 
phenomena.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  upon  these 
difificult  and  recondite  problems  there  has  been  expended  the 
highest  degree  of  intellectual  power  of  which  the  human  mind 
is  capable.  The  theories  set  on  foot  by  Plato  and  his  followers 
relative  to  the  nature  of  ideas  and  their  relations  to  the  outside 
world  gave  an  impetus  to  the  study  of  the  most  abstruse  of  all 
problems,  and  caused  the  discussions  to  be  directed  chiefly  to 
the  question  as  to  whether  anything  really  exists  except  the 
thinking  subject.  Thus  cut  loose  from  its  realistic  base, 
]:»hi]osophy  floated  for  ages  in  the  air  and  fought  the  battles  of 
the  shades.  Brought  partly  back  to  earth  by  Locke,  Descartes, 
and  Kant,  it  contiiuiod  the  struggle  with  one  foot  on  the 
ground  until  jihysiological  psychology  at  length  pricked  the 
metaphysical  bubble  and  it  collapsed.      But  it  is  found  that  too 


speculative  Genius.  219 

little  is  as  yet  known  of  the  occult  causes  of  mental  phenomena 
to  dispense  entirely  with  the  great  thoughts  of  the  past,  and 
just  now  there  is  noticeable  a  sort  of  reaction;  if  not  a  real 
FlucJit  ziiriick  zji  Kant,  at  least  a  tendency  to  search  through 
the  rubbish  of  metaphysical  speculation  for  certain  golden 
grains  that  are  found  buried  in  it,  and  to  bring  these  forth  and 
confront  them  with  the  facts  that  science  has  revealed.  Every- 
where now-a-days  one  sees  evidence  of  a  sort  of  catabasis  from 
the  high  throne  of  pure  reason  and  pure  intellect  to  the 
humbler  sphere  of  feeling  and  will,  and  from  the  regions  of 
abstraction,  reflection,  and  speculation  to  the  simpler  fields 
of  intuitive  intellection,  for  it  is  here  only  that  there  is 
hope  of  finding  a  true  scientific  basis  for  the  philosophy  of 
mind. 

Two  other  great  fields  for  the  operation  of  the  speculative 
genius  need  to  be  mentioned,  those  of  logic  and  mathematics. 
This  form  of  the  faculty  must  be  regarded  as  the  most  remote 
from  the  egoistic  base  of  mind.  We  have  seen  the  intellect 
leaving  self  to  revel  in  the  search  for  universal  utilities  ;  we 
have  seen  it  leave  utility  to  sport  with  the  phantoms  of  its 
own  creation  ;  we  have  seen  it  wrapped  up  in  the  objective 
contemplation  of  the  macrocosm  without  and  the  microcosm 
within.  We  are  now  to  behold  it  abandoning  everything 
material  and  losing  itself  in  the  purely  hypothetical  and  the 
purely  abstract.  For  such  is  logic  and  such  is  geometry,  which 
may  be  taken  as  the  type  of  mathematical  ideation.  Of  these 
two  fields,  that  of  logic  is  the  most  purely  abstract,  since 
geometry  may  be  regarded  simply  as  the  application  of  logic  to 
quantity.  Logic  deals  only  with  the  forms  of  thought,  and 
therefore  requires  complete  intellectual  abstraction.  While 
mathematics  is  the  test  or  criterion  of  all  science,  logic  is  the 
test  or  criterion  of  all  reasoning.  Untrammeled  by  facts  or 
concrete  conditions,  mathematics  reaches  the  absolutely  exact, 
and  all  the  sciences  in  the  hierarchy  seek  to  approach  as  closely 
as  possible  to  its  perfect  standard.      Similarly  logic  affords  the 


2  20  Objective  Factors. 

laws  or  canons  by  which  all  the  intellectual  operations  must 
square  themselves. 

But  it  is  not  the  nature  of  these  intellectual  domains  that 
specially  concern  us,  except  as  this  helps  us  to  see  how  the 
mind  must  operate  under  such  circumstances.  In  mathematics 
everything  is  divested  of  all  attributes  except  those  of  quantity 
or  number.  In  logic  they  are  divested  of  all  physical  attributes 
whatever,  and  reduced  to  pure  intellectual  relations.  Not,  of 
course,  that  these  quantitative  and  intellectual  relations  are  not 
capable  of  being  afterward  clothed  with  a  material  garb  and 
applied  to  concrete  facts  and  real  things.  This  is  the  use  and 
purpose  of  both  logic  and  mathematics.  But  before  this  can 
be  done  laws  must  be  discovered  which  are  capable  of  fitting 
all  possible  cases,  and  in  order  to  do  this  they  must  be  made 
absolutely  abstract  and  without  condition  or  dependence  upon 
anything  in  nature.  Abstract  reasoning,  as  it  is  called,  may 
therefore  be  regarded  as  the  highest  stage  which  has  been 
attained  by  the  human  mind,  measuring  the  ascent  exclusively 
by  the  degree  of  divergence  from  the  purely  concrete,  inter- 
ested, egoistic  base  of  the  intuitive  reason.  This  form  of 
development,  however,  is  by  no  means  necessarily  a  progress  in 
the  direction  of  practical  importance.  No  amount  of  abstract 
reasoning  could  save  the  race  from  destruction  under  the  law 
of  competition,  and  not  one  of  the  derivative  faculties  con- 
sidered in  this  chapter  and  the  last  have  the  least  value  in 
rendering  its  possessor  capable  of  survival  in  the  general 
struggle  for  existence.  This  is  why  it  is  necessary  to  exempt 
them  from  the  law  of  natural  selection,  and  the  fact  that  they 
have  developed  is  the  strongest  proof  that  has  ever  been 
presented  that  a  faculty  strengthened  by  use  transmits  to 
posterity  the  increment  acquired  during  the  life  in  which  it 
has  been  exercised.  There  is  no  other  way  of  explaining  the 
increase.  The  fortuitous  commingling  of  favorable  germs 
which  is  offered  by  Weismann  and  his  disciples  as  an  explana- 
tion, is  unintelligible  and  wholly  inadequate,  and  we  are  forced 


speculative  Genms.  221 

to  conclude  that  these  biologically  useless  acquired  characters 
are  really  transmitted.^ 

But  it  will  not  do  to  underrate  the  value  of  speculative 
genius  to  civilization.  Invention  and  scientific  discovery  have 
furnished  the  material  factors  of  civilization,  but  generalization 
and  speculation,  with  all  the  aids  of  philosophy  and  scientific 
reasoning,  have  given  the  world  an  intellectual  civilization, 
without  which  material  progress  would  have  little  value.^ 

1  It  would  be  out  of  place  to  argue  this  point  here.  I  have  done  this  elsewhere. 
See  Neo-Darwinism  and  Neo-Lamarckism  :  Proc.  Biol.  Soc.  Washington,  Vol.  VI, 
1891,  pp.  11-71  ;  The  Transmission  of  Culture  :  The  Forum,  Vol.  XI,  New  York, 
May,  1891,  pp.  312-319;  Weismann's  New  Essays:  Public  Opinion,  Vol.  XIII, 
Washington  and  New  York,  Sept.  lo,  1892,  p.  559. 

2  Scientific  methods  bear  the  same  relation  to  intellectual  progress  that  tools, 
instruments,  machines  —  mechanical  contrivances  of  all  sorts  —  bear  to  material 
progress.  They  are  intellectual  contrivances  —  indirect  ways  of  attaining  results 
too  hard  for  bare,  unaided  intellectual  strength.  As  the  civilized  man  is  little,  if 
at  all,  superior  to  the  savage  in  bare-handed  strength  of  muscle,  and  the  enormous 
superiority  of  the  former  in  accomplishing  material  results  is  wholly  due  to  the 
use  of  mechanical  contrivances  ;  even  so  in  the  higher  sphere  of  intellect,  the 
scientific  man  boasts  no  superiority  over  the  uncultured  man  in  bare,  unaided 
intellectual  power.  The  amazing  intellectual  results  achieved  by  modern  science 
are  due  wholly  to  the  use  of  intellectual  contrivances  or  scientific  methods.  As  in 
the  lower  sphere  of  material  progress  the  greatest  benefactors  of  the  race  are  the 
inventors  or  perfectors  of  new  mechanical  contrivances  or  machines,  so  in  the 
higher  sphere  of  intellectual  progress,  the  greatest  benefactors  of  our  race  are  the 
discoverers  or  perfectors  of  new  intellectual  contrivances  or  scientific  methods.  — 
Joseph  Le  Conte  :  Relation  of  Biology  to  Sociology.  The  Berkeleyan,  May, 
1887,  Vol.  XXIII,  p.  123  (separately  paged  reprint,  pp.  4-5)- 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

THE    INTELLECT. 

The  mind-force,  as  popularly  understood,  is  no  force,  but  only  a  condition. 
It  does  not  propel,  it  only  directs.  It  is  not  mind,  except  within  the  narrow 
limits  of  this  definition,  that  achieves  the  vast  results  which  civilization 
presents,  and  which,  it  must  be  admitted,  could  not  be  achieved  without  it. 
It  is  the  great  social  forces  which  we  have  been  passing  in  review  that 
have  accomplished  all  this.  Mind  simply  guides  them  in  their  course.  The 
office  of  mind  is  to  direct  society  into  unobstructed  channels,  to  enable 
(hese  forces  to  continue  in  free  play,  to  prevent  them  from  being  neutralized 
by  collision  with  obstacles  in  their  path.  In  a  word,  mind  has  for  its 
function  in  civilization  to  preserve  the  dynamic  and  prevent  the  statical 
condition  of  the  social  forces,  to  prevent  the  restoration  of  equilibrium 
between  the  social  forces  and  the  natural  forces  operating  outside  of  them. 
Just  as  it  is  not  psychological  force  which  propels  the  water-wheel  or  the 
piston  —  which  could  not,  nevertheless,  be  made  to  operate  without  it  — 
but  merely  the  forces  of  gravity  and  gaseous  expansion  compelled  by 
mechanical  power  under  the  guidance  of  intelligence  to  operate  for  the 
benefit  of  man,  so  it  is  not  mind  which  moves  the  civilization  of  the  world, 
but  only  the  great  and  never-ceasing  forces  of  society,  which  but  for  the 
guidance  of  mind  would  rush  blindly  on  into  a  thousand  entanglements 
with  rival  forces,  and  assume  that  position  of  statical  equilibrium  which 
represents  social  stagnation.  —  Dynamic  Sociology,  I,  698-699. 

Alle  Physikotheologie  ist  eine  Ausfijhrung  des,  der  Wahrheit  entgegen- 
stehenden,  Irrthums,  dass  namlich  die  voUkommenste  Art  der  Entstehung 
der  Dinge  die  durch  Vermittelung  eines  Intellekts  sei.  Daher  eben  schiebt 
diselbe  aller  tiefern  Ergriindung  der  Natur  einen  Riegel  vor.  —  Schopen- 
hauer :    Welt  als  IVi/lc,  II,  305. 

L'histoire  de  la  civilisation  pent  se  r^sumer  en  six  mots  :  plus  on  salt, 
plus  on  peut.  —  Edmond  About  :  A  B  C  du  Travailieur,  p.  39. 

The  \owg,  dark,  and  windini;  path  that  has  been  followed  in 
the  preceding  thirty  chaj)ter.s,  beginning  with  Chap.  II,  has 
only  brought  us  to  the  point  from  which  mental  philosophy  set 
out,  viz.,  to  the   intellect.     It  was  seen  to  exist,  but  no  one 


The  Intellect.  223 

ever  attempted  to  inquire  how  it  came  to  exist.  This  has 
been  our  special  task,  and  if  a  way  has  been  opened  to  a  true 
explanation  of  the  origin  and  development  of  the  intellect,  that 
task  has  been  performed.  But  Bacon  declares  vere  scire  esse 
per  caiisas  scire,  and  if  the  logic  of  this  book  is  sound  we  may 
claim  truly  to  know  something  about  the  intellect.  Much  is 
being  said  about  psychogenesis,  and  laudable  attempts  are  being 
made  to  explain  the  genesis  of  mind,  but  in  most  of  this  it  is 
only  its  ontogenesis  —  the  history  of  its  development  in  the 
individual  —  that  has  engaged  attention.  Far  more  important 
is  its  phylogenesis  — -  the  history  of  its  development  in  the  race. 
A  bare  outline  of  this  field  was  sketched  in  the  fifth  chapter  of 
Dynamic  Sociology,  but  its  inadequacy  was  even  then  clearly 
felt,  and  its  only  purpose  was  to  place  the  phenomena  of  mind 
in  their  proper  relations  to  those  of  life  on  the  one  hand,  and 
those  of  society  on  the  other.  While  the  present  work  may 
be  looked  upon  as  an  expansion  of  that  chapter,  still  it  could 
not  have  been  written  then,  because  its  matter  had  not  been 
fully  thought  out,  and  because  several  great  fields  had  not  as 
yet  been  opened  up  to  my  mind.  Its  defectiveness  from 
similar  causes  is  still  manifest,  and  others  with  the  aid  of 
better  light  will  doubtless  soon  remedy  much  of  this;  but  it  is 
to  be  hoped  that  no  backward  step  will  be  taken,  and  that  the 
real  origin  and  nature  of  mind  will  yet  be  made  known  to  men. 
Time  was,  and  not  long  agone,  when  life  was  looked  upon 
simply  as  an  observed  fact.  Now,  thanks  to  Darwin  and  his 
predecessors  and  successors,  it  is  seen  as  a  development,  and 
there  is  no  good  reason  why  mind  as  a  whole,  or  even  the 
intellect,  as  the  latest  expression  of  the  psychic  law,  should 
not  also  be  recognized  as  having  had  a  cause,  an  origin,  and  a 
history.  The  reason  will  never  be  satisfied  with  any  fact  until 
its  source  is  known.  All  antiquity  was  doomed  to  know  the 
river  Nile  only  as  a  fact,  but  Nili  capiit  qucercre  became  a 
proverb  that  then  expressed  the  restless  dissatisfaction  of  the 
time  with  such  a  state  of  things,  and  still  expresses  the  cease- 


2  24  Objective  Factors. 

less  effort  that  will  ever  be  put  forth  to  explore  the  unknown 
source  of  every  stream  of  knowledge.  The  theologian  may 
pronounce  it  irreverent  and  the  positivist  declare  it  useless, 
but  the  search  for  the  beginnings  of  things  will  still  go  on  and 
the  hidden  secrets  of  Nature  will  be  laid  bare. 

The  intellect  thus  seen  in  perspective  across  the  expanse  of 
time  stands  out  in  the  foreground  in  a  hitherto  unknown  clear- 
ness. All  the  past  philosophy  of  mind,  centering  as  it  has 
upon  this  one  faculty,  however  voluminous,  brilliant,  or  pro- 
found, was  incapable  of  thus  bringing  it  out  into  bold  relief. 
It  is  seen  as  a  becoming,  as  a  begotten  child,  as  a  product,  as 
a  reality.  Nihilism,  idealism,  and  all  the  other  'isms  of  the 
schools  are  banished,  and  psychology  as  a  true  natural  science 
succeeds  metaphysics  as  astronomy  succeeded  astrology,  chem- 
istry alchemy,  and  biology  the  magic  freaks  of  the  mysterious 
arch?eus. 

Continuing  the  comparison  with  biology,  primary  intuition, 
as  described  in  Chapters  XXI  and  XXII,  may  be  likened  to 
protoplasm  or  to  the  simplest  protozoans,  such  as  the  Amoeba, 
while  the  developed  intellect  would  represent  the  highest 
types  of  animals.  Intuition,  as  there  stated,  is  intellect,  and 
embodies  the  whole  of  that  faculty,  just  as  protoplasm  embodies 
all  there  is  in  life.  But  like  protoplasm  again,  intuition  is 
absolutely  simple  and  undifferentiated.  It  is  a  homogeneous 
property  containing  within  it  the  germs  or  potencies  of  all  the 
intellectual  faculties  subsequently  to  be  evolved  from  it.  In  it 
are  to  be  found  in  an  undeveloped  state  the  intuitive  percep- 
tion, reason,  and  judgment,  the  inventive  faculty,  and  the 
inventive,  creative,  and  speculative  genius,  which  form  the 
subjects  of  succeeding  chapters. 

While  the  intellect  as  thus  constituted  embraces  the  entire 
thinking  part  of  the  mind,  all  of  mind  that  is  not  feeling,  it  is 
nevertheless  important  to  distinguish  it  carefully  from  several 
other  things  with  which  it  is  sometimes  confounded,  at  least  by 
those  who  are  not  in  the  habit  of  analyzing  mental  operations. 


The  Intellect.  225 

First,  it  may  seem  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  it  is  of  a 
purely  psychic,  and  not  at  all  of  a  physiological  nature.  Like 
all  psychic  phenomena  its  operations  are  correlated  with  actual 
movements  taking  place  in  the  brain  and  higher  ganglia, 
doubtless  in  the  strict  relation  of  effect  to  cause,  but  these 
operations  are  pure  psychoses  and  must  not  be  confounded 
with  those  neuroses  which  form  their  physical  basis.  It  may 
not  be  out  of  place  to  remark  here,  although  the  remark  applies 
equally  to  the  subjective  phenomena  treated  in  Part  I,  that  this 
relation  of  mind  to  its  physical  base  does  not  seem  to  me  to 
embody  any  such  profound  mystery  as  most  writers  ascribe 
to  it.  I  think  that  the  habit  of  imagining  an  impassable  gulf 
between  |pody  and  mind  has  arisen  from  the  time-honored 
belief  in  the  ontological  nature  of  the  mind.  If  it  should  ever 
be  possible  to  escape  from  that  preconception  and  view,  mind 
simply  in  the  light  of  a  property,  the  mystery  would  forthwith 
vanish.  It  may  be  truly  said  that  any  property  involves 
mystery.  Why  the  peculiar  molecular  constitution  and  arrange- 
ment of  glycerine  should  render  that  substance  sweet,  or  of 
quinine  should  render  that  bitter,  is  as  mysterious  as  that  the 
molecular  constitution  and  arrangement  of  protoplasm  should 
impart  to  that  substance  vital  properties,  or  as  that  the  organ- 
ization of  the  brain  should  give  it  the  capacity  to  know.  Yet 
no  one  descants  on  the  wonderful  preestablished  harmony 
which  makes  salt  saline  and  potash  alkaline.  These  are  simply 
the  known  properties  of  these  substances,  believed  by  chemists 
to  be  due  to  their  chemical  constitution,  although  they  could 
never  have  been  inferred  or  predicted  from  a  knowledge  of 
that  constitution.  Viewed  in  this  light,  mind  in  general,  and 
thought  in  particular,  are  rescued  from  the  dominion  of  magic 
under  which  the  very  latest  works  still  persist  in  holding  them, 
and  are  placed  in  the  same  scientific  position  that  is  conceded 
to  all  other  phenomena  that  it  is  proposed  to  investigate.  If  I 
were  asked  to  specify  the  most  serious  obstacle  which  now 
stands  in  the  way  of  psychologic  progress  I  should  not  hesitate 


2  26  Objective  Factors. 

to  name  as  such  this  lingering  notion  of  the  necessary  entity 
of  mind. 

In  the  second  place  intellect  must  not  be  confounded  with 
consciousness.  Few,  it  is  true,  are  likely  to  do  tliis,  but  some 
are  disposed  to  look  upon  consciousness  as  embodying  the  sum 
total  of  the  knowing  faculty.  Under  that  head  Sir  William 
Hamilton  grouped  all  the  phenomena  treated  in  his  course  of 
lectures  on  metaphysics.  In  this,  however,  he  was  not  wholly 
wrong,  for  consciousness  is,  properly  speaking,  not  a  faculty 
but  rather  the  condition  of  all  mental  operations  whatever. 
When  consciousness  ceases  mind  ceases.  The  exceptions  that 
will  present  themselves  to  this  statement  are  apparent  only. 
For  every  ganglionic  center  must  have  a  consciousness  of  its 
ow'n,  and  one  must  distinguish  in  the  higher  animals  and 
man  between  the  supreme  consciousness  and  the  subordinate 
consciousnesses.  Consciousness  embraces  feeling  as  well  as 
thinking  and  knowing,  and  the  common  expression  "uncon- 
scious feeling"  is  a  contradiction  of  terms.  The  loose  way  in 
which  Hartmann  employs  the  term  unconscious  is,  to  say  the 
least,  unscientific,  since  the  Unconscious  itself,  which  he  per- 
sonifies, is  shown  to  be  intensely  conscious.  Even  the  useful 
expression  "  unconscious  cerebration  "  requires  to  be  qualified 
so  as  to  mean  simply  that  the  supreme  ego  does  not  take 
cognizance  of  such  operations.  But  there  must  be  subordinate 
centers  that  are  distinctly  conscious  of  them  and  that  guide 
them  along  perfectly  rational  paths,  often  to  the  most  brilliant 
results. 

Just  here  it  may  be  well  to  meet  the  objection  that  may  be 
made  to  the  fundamental  classification  of  mental  phenomena 
employed  in  this  work,  viz.,  that  into  subjective  and  objective, 
as  defined  in  Chapters  IV  and  V.  It  is  held  by  some  that  all 
cerebration  and  ideation  are  attended  with  feeling,  that  to  be 
conscious  of  thinking,  the  "stream  of  thought"  as  it  flows 
through  the  brain  must  produce  a  sense  of  its  action.  Certain 
writers  profess  that  when  performing  a  mental  operation  they 


The  Intellect. 


22  7 


can  detect  a  distinct  sensation  in  the  head,  due  to  the  flow  of 
nerve-currents.  This  is  probably  more  than  they  can  say  of 
either  sight  or  hearing,  which,  as  has  been  shown,  must  be 
attended  with  feeling,  although  no  one  perhaps  is  able  to  make 
this  feeling  rise  into  the  field  of  the  supreme  consciousness. 
And  there  seems  no  good  reason  to  doubt  that  cerebral  neurosis 
is  always  and  necessarily  attended  with  feeling,  as  much  that 
form  which  results  in  thought,  as  that  which  results  in  emotions. 
Otherwise  there  would  be  motion,  molecular  at  least,  without 
sensation,  or  an  effect  without  a  cause.  But  this  is  a  very 
different  thing  from  saying  that  all  thought  is  feeling,  and 
that  no  distinction  of  subjective  and  objective  exists  in  the 
phenomena  of  the  mind.  Intellection  —  the  acts  of  perceiving, 
cognizing,  conceiving,  judging,  reasoning,  generalizing,  etc., — 
is  an  objective  fact,  a  complex  psychosis,  which  is  capable 
of  being  contemplated  apart  from  molecular  change  and  its 
accompanying  sensations.  In  and  of  itself,  one  may  say,  it  is 
nothing,  but  it  is  known  by  its  effects  which  manifest  them- 
selves in  muscular  action,  in  the  agent  doing  something  which 
he  would  not  ai  d  could  not  do  without  this  faculty.  The 
greatest  "intellect"  in  the  world,  if  he  had  never  done  any- 
thing would  have  remained  unrecognized.  It  is  only  by  this 
doing — speaking,  writing,  constructing,  etc.,  —  that  an  intellect 
can  make  its  existence  known,  and  this  it  can  only  do  by 
means  of  the  bodily  organs. 

The  next  distinction  may  be  drawn  between  intellect  and 
knowledge.  It  should  be  premised,  however,  that  the  word 
knoxvlcdgc  has  two  different  meanings,  being  used  both  in  the 
active  and  the  passive  sense.  In  the  sense  of  knowing  or 
cognizing,  knowledge  is,  indeed,  an  integral  part  of  intellect, 
but  in  this  sense  it  is  more  rare.  In  the  passive  or  objective 
sense,  however,  the  case  is  quite  different.  In  this  sense, 
although  intellect  and  knowledge  are  entirely  distinct  things, 
still  it  is  impossible  for  either  to  exist  without  the  other. 
They  may  be  separately  conceived  and  treated,  but  they  cannot 


2  28  Objective  Factors. 

be  separated  in  fact.  It  is  impossible  for  a  sentient  being  to 
move  or  even  for  the  least  important  of  its  organs  to  act  in  the 
most  primitive  way,  at  least  consciously,  without  its  resulting 
in  knowledge.  For  every  movement  is  a  reaction  from  some 
sensation  and  involves  a  perception,  if  it  be  nothing  more  than 
that  of  its  own  activity.  It  is  true  that  intensive  sensations  as 
defined  in  Chap.  V,  being  so  strong,  cause  the  perception  to 
be  lost  sight  of  and  consciousness  to  be  concentrated  upon  the 
feeling  of  pain  or  pleasure  produced,  and  this  gives  little  or  no 
notion  of  the  qualities  of  the  object,  but  nevertheless  it  fur- 
nishes an  experience,  and  this  constitutes  an  important  kind  of 
knowledge.  The  power  of  perceiving  relations,  which  is  the 
essence  of  all  forms  of  intuition,  is  acquired  through  innumer- 
able experiences,  primarily  due  to  a  multitude  of  trials  in 
exploring  the  environment,  most  of  which  are  failures  but  some 
successes,  and  through  these  repeated  efforts  the  brain  and  great 
ganglionic  centers  slowly  learn  by  comparison  to  distinguish 
between  fruitless  and  successful  movements. 

Experiences  of  this  conative  class  are  supplemented  by  the 
regular  method  of  acquiring  knowledge  through  perception 
accompanying  indifferent  sensation,  yielding  conceptions  and 
ideas  and  resulting  in  ideation  or  thought.  Thus  without  any 
systematic  or  intentional  effort,  intellect  is  constantly  and  neces- 
sarily acquiring  knowledge  through  contact  and  interaction  of 
the  organism  with  the  environment.  Fitness  to  resist  the 
hostile  elements  of  the  environment  consists  in  a  certain  degree 
of  susceptibility  on  the  part  of  the  intellect  to  the  reception  of 
this  essential  knowledge,  and  under  the  law  of  natural  selection 
only  those  beings  that  possess  this  required  degree  of  suscepti- 
bility are  able  to  survive.  This  results  in  a  true  biological 
development  of  the  intellectual  faculty. 

But  it  is  well  known  that  developed  man  possesses  a  large 
fund  of  knowledge  which  is  not  acquired  in  this  way.  Inven- 
tive, creative,  and  speculative  genius  is  for  the  most  part 
independent   of  the   law  of  advantage,   and  yet  it  is  this  that 


The  Intellect.  229 

requires  for  its  exercise  the  largest  fund  and  the  highest  kind 
of  knowledge.  How  did  it  come  into  possession  of  it  ?  It  has 
been  shown  that  the  real  stimulus  to  the  exercise  of  these 
derivative  intellectual  powers  is  the  pleasure  which  this  exercise 
affords.  But  such  exercise,  like  that  of  the  intuitive  powers, 
necessarily  resulted  in  the  constant  acquisition  of  knowledge, 
albeit  such  knowledge  was  of  no  practical  use  to  the  individual 
acquiring  it  except  in  so  far  as  its  acquisition  was  a  pleasure 
resulting  from  the  satisfaction  of  a  new  and  elevated  desire  to 
acquire  knowledge.  That  such  a  desire  exists  in  a  large  propor- 
tion of  mankind  is  a  well-known  fact,  and  that  it  was  developed 
through  the  exercise  of  the  faculties  named  there  can  be  no 
doubt.  This  new  desire  demanding  satisfaction  furnished  an 
additional  and  powerful  stimulus  to  intellectual  activity  of  this 
class,  and  it  is  to  the  joint  effect  of  these  two  stimuli  —  the 
pleasure  derived  from  intellectual  exercise  and  from  the  acquisi- 
tion of  knowledge  —  that  must  be  attributed  the  amazing  heights 
to  which  human  genius  has  attained. 

Intelligence,  though  sometimes  confounded  with  intellect, 
sometimes  with  genius,  sometimes  with  shrewdness,  sagacity, 
and  ingenuity,  is  none  of  these,  but  simply  predicates  a  fair 
degree  of  intellectual  capacity  in  possession  of  an  adequate 
supply  of  knowledge.  The  quality  of  intellect  implied  in 
intelligence  is  of  a  high  order  but  not  so  brilliant  as  to  amount 
to  genius.  The  knowledge  implied  is  a  practical  acquaintance 
with  those  things  that  everyone  should  know  and  does  not 
include  purely  ornamental  accomplishment.  This  admixture  of 
practical  discernment  with  practical  acquirement,  constituting 
intelligence  is  felt  to  be  the  best  balance  of  qualities  that  one 
can  have  to  insure  success  in  life.  It  embraces  enough  of  the 
egoistic  principle  to  prevent  anyone  from  becoming  the  victim 
of  that  principle  in  others,  enough  of  the  intuitive  judgment  to 
hold  fast  to  present  good,  and  enough  of  the  inventive  faculty 
to  cope  with  nature  and  adversity  if  required  to  do  so.  At  the 
same  time  it   does  not  preclude  the  possession  of  any  kind  of 


230  Objective  Factors. 

useful  knowledge  and  recognizes  the  utility  of  all  refining^ 
elevating,  and  broadening  influences.  Neither  the  capacity  nor 
the  aquirement  necessary  to  constitute  intelligence  is  beyond 
the  power  of  the  average  individual.  It  is  a  condition  that  is 
attainable  by  every  adult  person  of  sound  mind.  The  intelligent 
man  or  woman  is  the  ideal  citizen,  and  De  Tocquevillc's  saying 
that  representative  fojms  of  government  necessarily  presuppose 
a  certain  degree  of  general  intelligence  in  the  people  is  abun- 
dantly sustained  by  history. 

Finally,  it  is  of  prime  importance  to  distinguish  the  intellect 
from  the  dynamic  agent  in  the  mind.  The  nature  of  that  agent 
was  fully  set  forth  in  Part  I,  and  it  might  scarcely  seem  neces- 
sary to  dwell  here  upon  its  fundamental  dissimilarity  to  the 
thinking  faculty  whose  genesis  has  been  traced.  But  as  one  of 
the  principal  objects  of  this  work  is  to  show  that  while  the 
subjective  factors  of  mind  furnish  the  true  social  forces  the 
objective  factors  furnish  the  guide  to  those  forces,  this  would 
seem  to  be  the  place  to  justify  the  latter  claim  before  passing 
to  the  social  synthesis  of  the  factors.  This  is  important  because 
the  idea  is  so  often  expressed  that  mind,  by  which  intellect 
alone  is  always  meant,  is  a  force.  Those  who  take  a  theistic 
or  pantheistic  view  of  nature  almost  unanimously  attribute  the 
phenomena  of  the  universe  to  the  action  of  mind  or  intelligence 
conceived  as  an  omnipotent  force,  and  philosophers  of  this  class, 
if  they  accept  evolution,  regard  this  too  as  the  effect  of  an 
intellectual,  or  as  they  express  it,  an  intelligent  cause.  Abun- 
dant as  are  the  assertions  of  this  kind  they  have  scarcely  ever 
been  answered  in  the  only  way  that  is  conclusive.  Mr.  Herbert 
Spencer,  however,  in  replying  to  views  of  Mr.  James  Martineau 
similar  to  that  last  referred  to,  in  which  the  expressions  "mental 
force"  and  "originating  mind"  were  used,  very  appropriately 
says  :  "In  metaphysical  controversy,  many  of  the  propositions 
pr<)i:)()un(!cd  and  accepted  as  quite  believable  are  absolutely 
inconceivable.  There  is  a  perpetual  confusing  of  actual  ideas 
with  what  are  nothing  but  pseud-ideas.     No  distinction  is  made 


The  Intellect.  231 

between  propositions  that  contain  real  thoughts,  and  propositions 
that  are  only  the  forms  of  thoughts.  A  thinkable  proposition  is 
one  of  which  the  two  terms  can  be  brought  together  in  conscious- 
ness under  the  relation  said  to  exist  between  them.  But  very 
often,  when  the  subject  of  a  proposition  has  been  thought  of  as 
something  known,  and  when  the  predicate  has  been  thought  of 
as  something  known,  and  when  the  relation  alleged  between 
them  has  been  thought  of  as  a  known  relation,  it  is  supposed 
that  the  proposition  itself  has  been  thought.  The  thinking 
separately  of  the  elements  of  a  proposition  is  mistaken  for  the 
thinking  of  them  in  the  combination  which  the  proposition 
affirms.  And  hence  it  continually  happens  that  propositions 
which  cannot  in  truth  be  rendered  into  thought  at  all  are 
supposed  to  be  not  only  thought  but  believed.  The  proposition 
that  Evolution  is  caused  by  Mind  is  one  of  this  nature.  The 
two  terms  are  separately  intelligible  ;  but  they  can  be  regarded 
in  the  relation  of  effect  and  cause  only  so  long  as  no  attempt  is 
made  to  put  them  together  in  the  relation."  ^ 

Besides  the  wide-spread  belief  that  the  phenomena  of  the 
universe  are  either  caused  by  mind  or  constitute  a  universal 
mind-force,  it  is  not  infrequently  said  that  the  achievements  of 
man  are  a  proof  that  the  intellect  is  a  force.  It  is  clearly 
perceived  that  without  it  these  achievements  would  have  been 
impossible,  i.  e.,  that  it  is  in  some  way  a  cause  of  them,  and 
the  distinction  between  a  causa  sine  qua  non  and  a  causa 
cfficicns  is  not  drawn.  The  latter  is  the  essence  of  a  force. 
It  is  a  vis  a  tcrgo,  impelling  whatever  is  before  it.  It  is  in 
this  sense  that  the  will  is  a  true  force,  but  not  so  the  intellect. 
This,  as  already  remarked,  is  only  a  directive  agent.     A  few 

1  Popular  Science  Monthly,  Vol.  I,  New  York,  July,  1S72,  pp.  319-320.  Many 
years  earlier,  in  his  Social  Statics,  Mr.  Spencer  had  used  the  following  language  : 
"  Intellect  is  not  a  power,  but  an  instrument  —  not  a  thing  which  itself  moves  and 
works,  but  a  thing  which  is  moved  and  worked  by  forces  behind  it.  To  say  that 
men  are  ruled  by  reason,  is  as  irrational  as  to  say  that  men  are  ruled  by  their  eyes. 
Reason  is  an  eye  —  the  eye  through  which  the  desires  see  their  way  to  gratifica- 
tion."    See  Social  Statics,  London,  185 1,  p.  350. 


232  Objective  Factors. 

familiar  illustrations  of  the  distinction  between  propulsion  and 
direction  have  already  been  used,  such,  for  example,  as  that  of 
the  wind  filling  the  sail  of  a  ship  compared  with  the  helm 
managed  by  the  practised  helmsman  ;  but  the  reasons  why 
the  intellect  when  joined  to  the  will  is  able  to  produce  such 
enormously  increased  effects  have  not  been  specifically  pointed 
out.  In  Chapters  XVII  to  XIX,  however,  the  preparation 
was  made  for  explaining  these  reasons.  This  explanation  may 
be  introduced  by  the  general  proposition  that  the  true  secret 
of  the  efficacy  of  intellectual  action  is  that  it  makes  nature  do 
the  work.  This  is  the  fundamental  principle  underlying  all 
invention.  Man  has  a  power  within  himself  —  the  will  —  but 
this  is  extremely  limited.  He  can  accomplish  very  little  of 
what  he  desires  by  the  exercise  of  this  power  alone.  But  he 
finds  himself  surrounded  by  the  unseen  powers  of  nature  over 
many  of  which  he  has  no  influence,  but  some  of  which,  through 
the  exercise  of  his  intellect  he  has  learned  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree  to  control.  He  has  learned  that  whenever  he  fully 
understands  the  nature  of  these  forces  it  is  possible  to  direct 
them  into  channels  which  will  cause  them  to  produce  the 
effects  that  he  desires.  The  phenomena  of  nature  are  uniform 
and  take  place  according  to  invariable  laws.  When  those  laws 
are  known  it  is  usually  possible  to  utilize  them  by  simple 
adjustments.  Great  and  irresistible  as  Nature  seems  to  be,  it 
is  found  that  as  a  matter  of  fact  she  is  easily  managed.  All 
that  is  required  is  to  know  her  thoroughly  and  to  know  how  to 
control  her.  The  first  is  science,  the  second  is  art  or  inven- 
tion. This  is  as  true  of  the  simplest  tools  as  it  is  of  the  most 
complicated  machinery.  If  it  is  desired  to  excavate  a  tunnel 
through  a  mountain  the  lowest  class  of  labor  performed  in 
such  an  excavation  involves  this  principle.  The  gang  of 
workmen  employed  to  do  the  digging  could  do  comparatively 
nothing  without  their  picks  and  shovels.  These  are  products 
of  art.  Their  adaptation  to  the  work  required  to  be  done  is  a 
result   of    thoujrht.     All  labor  is   somethinjr  more  than  mere 


The  Intellect.  233 

muscular  exertion.  The  lowest  class  of  laborers  arc  artisans 
in  a  proper  sense  of  the  term.  Political  economists  speak  of 
production,  but  what  is  production  but  the  work  of  natural 
forces  directed  by  intelligence  .-*  ^  Not  only  is  the  real  labor 
chiefly  done  by  nature  but  the  product  is  wholly  artificial. 
Man  does  little  but  direct.  Machinery  is  simply  an  extension 
of  the  principle  that  was  always  employed.  It  diminishes  the 
agency  of  muscle  and  increases  the  agency  of  physical  force. 

Not  only  is  the  force  that  resides  in  man  comparatively 
feeble,  but  its  effect  to  secure  the  ends  sought  is  greatly 
lessened  by  friction.  By  this  I  mean  that  when  unguided  it 
constantly  fails  on  account  of  the  obstacles  in  its  way.  Know- 
ing none  but  the  direct  method  of  going  about  its  work  in  the 
great  majority  of  cases  it  is  impeded  or  wholly  prevented  from 
accomplishing  its  object.  The  only  true  psychic  force  is 
desire.  This  in  and  of  itself  is  unintelligent  and  blind.  The 
poets  have  happily  represented  love,  which  is  the  type  of  pure 
desire,  as  blind,  and  all  languages  recognize  the  truth  in  the 
expression  "  blind  impulse  "  (blhidcr  Drang).  So  complicated  is 
the  environment  of  every  living  creature  that  it  is  only  through 
a  variety  of  instincts  developed  through  natural  selection,  and 
causing  animals  to  perform  acts  that  so  closely  resemble 
rational  ones  as  to  be  frequently  mistaken  for  them,  that  any 
race  is  able  to  escape  destruction  from  the  barriers  to  existence 
which  the  most  simple  conditions  present.  These  instincts 
are  fixed  and  being  only  adapted  to  a  given  environment,  the 
least  change  in  the  creature's  surroundings,  if  at  all  rapid  or 
sudden,  results  in  extinction.  Man  has  instincts  too,  but  his 
environment  is  infinitely  more  complex  than  that  of  any  species 
of  animals,  to  meet  which  something  besides  instinct  is  neces- 
sary.     One  of  the  principal  functions  of  the  intellect  therefore, 

1  L'outillage  du  genre  humain  n'est  pas  autre  chose  qu'une  collection  d'idees. 
Tous  les  leviers  s'usent  a  la  longue,  et  toutes  les  brouettes  aussi ;  las  machines  a 
vapeur  ne  sout  pas  eternelles,  mais  I'idee  reste  et  nous  permet  de  remplacer 
indefiniment  le  material  qui  perit.  —  Edmond  About:  A  B  C  du  Travailleur. 
Deu.xieme  Edition,  Paris,  1869,  pp.  39-40. 


2  34  Objective  Factors. 

is  to  dimmish  or  remove  entirely  the  friction  of  his  environ- 
ment, and  thus  to  economize  to  the  fullest  extent  the  true 
forces  that  are  within  him.  It  is  this  greater  ability  to  make 
his  acts  count  by  the  intelligent  avoidance  of  obstructions  and 
impediments,  joined  with  the  faculty,  of  utilizing  the  forces  of 
nature  that  more  than  anything  else  distinguishes  man  from 
the  lower  animals,  and  both  these  qualities  belong  exclusively 
to  the  intellect. 

It  remains  to  point  out  more  exactly  the  nature  of  what  may 
be  called  iJic  psycJiology  of  intcllccitial  direction  —  the  precise 
process  according  to  which  the  intellect  works  in  controlling 
the  true  psychic,  and  hence  also  the  social  forces.  This  has 
already  been  done  in  Chapters  XXI  to  XXIII  for  simple  in- 
tuition, and  again  in  Chap.  XXVIII  for  the  specific  process 
of  invention,  and  the  principle  is  the  same  for  the  fully 
developed  intellect,  but  a  more  generalized  statement  of  it  may 
now  be  made.  It  was  seen  that  the  essence  of  this  principle 
is  the  erection  of  the  means  to  desired  ends  into  true  objects 
of  desire,  and  all  that  intellect  does  is  simply  to  report  to 
consciousness  the  fact  that  a  certain  act  is  such  a  means.  It 
then  becomes  immediately  desired,  and  action  follows  this  new 
desire.  The  simple  perception  that  such  indirect  action  con- 
stitutes such  a  means  is  the  intellectual  act,  and  of  itself 
involves  no  muscular  movement,  no  desire.  It  is  therefore  in 
no  proper  sense  a  force.  It  may  be  said  that  the  perception 
itself  implies  a  change  within  the  brain  substance  —  a  neurosis 
—  and  that  an  intellectual  act  implies  action.  This  cannot  be 
denied.  The  'report'  to  consciousness  of  the  discovery  of  a 
means  of  accomplishing  a  desired  but  otherwise  unattainable 
or  difficult  purpose  is  certainly  a  psychosis,  and  as  such 
involves  some  form  of  brain  action  or  nerve  metabolism,  but 
it  is  not  the  movement  which  has  the  effect  to  contract  the 
a])pro]:)riate  muscles  and  produce  the  necessary  act,  not  even 
the  one  that  is  essential  to  secure  the  means.  That  action 
cannot  take  place  until  the  desire  has  been  aroused  to  secure 


The  Intellect.  235 

such  means,  which  the  intellectual  perception  has  caused  to  be 
substituted  for  the  desire  to  secure  the  end. 

It  is  also  true  that  all  indirect  means  to  ends  which  intellect 
perceives,  involve  some  muscular  action  requiring  force,  and  the 
popular  view  seems  to  be  that  this  force,  at  least,  is  exerted  by 
the  intellect.  With  a  fulcrum,  a  long  enough  lever,  and  a 
■Kov  arC)  Archimedes  could  doubtless  move  the  earth,  and  in 
most  of  the  mechanic  arts  the  muscular  effort  required  to  be 
exerted  is  exceedingly  small  in  comparison  with  the  total  force 
that  is  brought  to  bear  upon  the  object  to  be  moved,  still,  even 
the  application  of  the  lighted  fuse  made  by  the  little  girl  that 
blew  up  Hell  Gate  was  a  slight  muscular  effort.  But  the  force 
that  produced  this  effort  was  not  the  intellect.  It  may  ha^^e 
been  merely  a  desire  to  comply  with  her  parents'  wishes.  Yet 
all  the  engineering  work  and  all  the  labor  involved  in  that 
enterprise  was  directed  by  the  intellect. 

The  intellect  thus  fully  fledged  is  not  a  rare  faculty,  latent  the 
greater  part  of  the  time,  and  only  occasionally  brought  into 
requisition.  It  is  in  constant  use  and  ceaseless  activity  and 
directs  the  greater  part  of  the  movements  of  its  possessor. 
That  is,  the  most  important  actions  of  human  beings  at  least 
are  performed  under  its  guidance,  and  the  phenomena  of  civil- 
ized life  are  in  the  main  the  results  of  what  was  described  in  the 
eighth  chapter  of  Dynamic  Sociology  as  "  the  indirect  method 
of  conation."  The  intellectually  directed  activities  of  men  may 
be  classed  under  three  general  heads  ;  first,  movements  of  the 
body  and  limbs  under  the  guidance  of  the  intellect  for  the  more 
certain  gratification  of  desire.  This  class  not  only  includes 
special  and  particular  acts  thus  described,  but  also  all  the  great 
systematic  courses  of  action.  Besides  the  innumerable  efforts 
to  circumvent,  deceive,  and  outwit  others,  and  thus  secure 
unearned  gratifications,  and  besides  the  devising  of  the  means 
and  instruments  for  deceiving  and  outwitting  nature  in  the 
same  way  to  the  same  end,  it  also  includes  the  entire  field  of 
human  labor  of  whatever  kind,   which,  as  already   remarked, 


236  Objective  Factors. 

always  involves  more  or  less  exercise  of  the  intellectual  powers. 
The  second  great  class  of  intellectual  activity  is  that  of  oral 
communication  or  speech.  Through  this  art  the  intellect  finds 
a  fuller  expression  than  through  those  of  mere  action.  The 
immense  influence  which  the  members  of  society  thus  exert 
upon  one  another,  and  indirectly  upon  their  general  condition,  is 
too  apparent  to  require  illustration.  The  third  class  is  that  of 
written  communication,  through  which  the  finest  shades  of 
thought  and  the  highest  discoveries  of  truth  are  not  only  con- 
veyed to  all  who  can  read  but  are  handed  on  to  later  ages  to 
form  a  basis  for  still  higher  flights  of  intellectual  achievement. 
In  all  these  respects  man  differs  from  the  highest  animals 
ai?d  it  is  this  difference  that  constitutes  him  a  rational  being. 
For  reason,  as  popularly  employed,  is  nothing  else  than  the 
exercise  of  the  intellect  according  to  the  indirect  method,  and 
while  that  faculty  is  feeble  and  frequently  misleading  among 
the  lower  types  of  mankind,  and  none  too  strong  or  reliable 
among  the  higher  ones,  still,  all  men  not  only  possess  it  in 
some  degree,  but  they  all  exercise  it  daily  and  hourly  and  in  all 
that  they  do.  This  fact  should  be  recognized  in  any  system  of 
social  science,  not  merely  as  a  fact  but  as  the  prime  factor  in 
the  treatment  of  such  a  science. 


PART    III. 

SOCIAL   SYNTHESIS   OF 
THE   FACTORS. 


This  comparison  of  legislation  to  invention  is  not  a  mere  accidental  or 
convenient  analogy.  So  soon  as  the  mind  rises  to  grasp  the  conception  of 
social  forces,  possessing  all  the  essential  attributes  of  the  physical  forces, 
and  differing  from  them  only  as  these  differ  from  one  another,  the  actual 
identity  of  legislation,  as  it  should  be  conducted,  with  mechanical  invention, 
as  it  is  alone  successfully  conducted,  becomes  at  once  obvious.  The 
successful  inventor,  knowing  as  he  first  must  the  nature  of  the  forces  and 
the  objects  with  which  he  has  to  deal,  so  adjusts  the  latter  that  the  former, 
though  in  no  way  increased  or  diminished  or  changed  in  their  essential 
nature,  will,  by  their  natural  operation,  produce  results  beneficial  to  human 
interests.  The  true  legislator  must  do  precisely  this  and  nothing  else. 
The  only  difference  is,  that  he  is  dealing  with  social  forces  and  objects 
instead  of  physical  ones.  —  Dynamic  Sociology^  I,  38. 

Throughout  the  animal  kingdom  there  are  found  no  better  examples  of 
energetic  industr)-,  than  these  in  which  the  ends  which  the  activities 
subserve  are  altruistic  rather  than  egoistic.  And  hence  we  are  shown, 
undeniably,  that  it  is  a  perfectly  possible  thing  for  organisms  to  become  so 
adjusted  to  the  requirements  of  their  lives,  that  energy  expended  for  the 
general  welfare  may  not  only  be  adequate  to  check  energy  expended  for 
the  individual  welfare,  but  may  come  to  subordinate  it  so  far  as  to  leave 
individual  welfare  no  greater  than  is  requisite  for  maintenance  of  individual 
life.  .  .  .  They  show  us  that  it  is  within  the  possibilities  of  organization 
to  produce  a  nature  which  shall  be  just  as  energetic,  and  even  more 
energetic,  in  the  pursuit  of  altruistic  ends,  as  is,  in  other  cases,  shown  in 
the  pursuit  of  egoistic  ends  :  and  they  show  that  in  such  cases  these 
altruistic  ends  are  pursued  in  pursuing  ends  which  on  their  other  face  are 
egoistic.  For  the  satisfaction  of  the  needs  of  the  organization,  these  actions 
conducive  to  the  welfare  of  others  must  be  carried  on.  The  seeking  for 
the  satisfaction  which  the  organization  requires,  itself  entails  the  perform- 
ance of  those  activities  which  the  welfare  of  the  community  requires.  — 
Herbert  Spencer  :  Principles  of  Ethics^  I,  pp.  301-302. 

For  Where's  the  State  beneath  the  Firmament 
That  doth  excell  the  Bees  for  (louernment  ? 

Du  Baktas  :  Diuine  Weckes  and  Workcs,  p.  184. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

THE  ECONOMY  OF  NATURE  AND  THE  ECONOMY  OF  MIND. 

The  prodigality  of  nature  is  now  a  well-understood  truth  in  biology,  and 
one  that  every  sociologist  and  every  statesman  should  not  only  understand 
but  be  able  to  apply  to  society,  which  is  still  under  the  complete  dominion 
of  these  same  wasteful  laws.  No  true  economy  is  ever  attained  until 
intellectual  foresight  is  brought  to  bear  upon  social  phenomena.  Teleo- 
logical  adaptation  is  the  only  economical  adaptation.  —  Dynamic  Sociology, 
I,  74-75- 

The  natural  antidotes  to  monopoly  (i.  e.,  where  no  attempt  is  made  at 
social  regulation^  are  counter-monopoly  and  competition.  But  these  two 
are  essentially  the  same,  counter-monopoly  being  only  competition  of 
monopolies. 

There  is  a  constant  antithesis  between  competition  and  cooperation  which 
applies  as  well  to  the  non-producer  as  to  the  producer.  Cooperation  always 
tends  to  reduce  competition,  and  competition  denotes  want  of  cooperation. 
Whether  competition  can  be  trusted  to  prevent  monopoly  depends  upon  the 
degree  of  cooperation,  and  no  equitable  adjustment  of  the  various  relations 
of  industry  can  be  made  so  long  as  different  industries  manifest  different 
powers  of  cooperation.  As  society  is  now  constituted,  it  is  the  non- 
producing  classes  who  cooperate  most  and  compote  least,  while  the  pro- 
ducing classes  cooperate  very  little  and  compete  strongly.  Cooperation  is 
an  artificial  principle,  the  result  of  superior  intelligence.  Competition  is  a 
natural  law,  and  involves  no  thought.  Hence  those  who  cooperate  thrive 
at  the  expense  of  those  who  compete^.  —  Dyna/ziic  Sociology,  I,  594. 

Nature  is  extremely  practical,  though  not  what  men  call  economical. 
Nature's  economics  differ  from  man's  in  being  genetic,  involving  great 
waste  of  products.  In  genetic  economy,  while  no  amount  of  cost  is  spared 
to  produce  the  smallest  result,  nothing  is  ever  done  unless  it  produces  some 
result,  however  slight.  In  human,  or  teleological  economy,  on  the  other 
hand,  great  parsimony  is  displayed  in  the  outlay,  and  frequently  much  labor 
is  expended  without  result,  owing  to  erroneous  interpretations  of  phenomena. 
Nature  never  errs,  but  she  wastes.  Man  economizes,  but  often  looses 
through  error.  Nature  may  be  called  practical,  but  not  economical  ;  man 
economical,  but  not  always  practical.  —  Dyna/nic  Sociology,  II,  494. 

L'homme  n'est  ni  ange,  ni  bete  ;  et  le  malheur  veut  que  qui  veut  faire 
I'ange  fait  la  bete.  —  Pascal  :  Pciisc'cs,  I,  185. 


240  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

C'est  ainsi  que  c'est  enfin  trouv^  provisoirement  rdalise,  autaut  que  le 
comportent  les  tendances  gdnerales  de  la  socicte  moderne,  I'^trange  type 
politique  propre  ^  la  philosophie  ne'gative,  qui  avait  si  longtemps  demands 
un  systeme  rdduisant  le  pouvoir  h  de  simples  fonctions  rcpressives,  sans 
aucune  attribution  directrice,  ct  abandonnant  a  une  libre  concurrence 
privde  toute  active  poursuite  de  la  regendration  intellectuelle  et  morale.  — 
AuGUSTE  COMTE  ;  Philosophic  Positive^  VI,  334. 

Nos  premieres  ressources  ou,  pour  parler  plus  juste,  tous  les  biens  de 
riiumanite  sont  des  conquetes  du  travail. 

L'homme  ne  peut  ni  crder  ni  detruire  un  atome  de  matiere.  mais  il  pent 
rapprocher  de  sa  personne  et  s'assimiler  tout  ce  qui  le  menace  ;  il  peut  sur- 
tout  adapter  ^  son  usage  et  tourner  a  son  profit  ce  qui  d'abord  dtait 
indifferent  ou  meme  nuisible.  Par  le  travail,  il  ajoute  a  tout  ce  qu'il 
touche  un  caractere  d'utilite  et  s'annexe  ainsi  toute  la  terre,  petit  a  petit.  — 
Ed.aioxd  About  -.ABC  du  Travailleur,  p.  29. 

I  have  from  time  to  time  shown  that  there  are  certain  limitations  to  the 
application  of  the  doctrines  and  methods  of  biology  to  sociology,  and  that 
in  every  case  such  limitation  is  the  result  of  the  introduction  of  some  new 
principle  characteristic  of  Jitiinaiiity  as  distinguished  from  aiiiDiality,  of 
reason  as  distinguished  from  instinct,  of  spirit  as  distinguished  from 
matter.  This  is  precisely  what,  even  from  a  purely  scientific  point  of  view, 
we  ought  to  expect,  and  is  in  fact  necessary.  For  in  the  scientific  hierarchy 
each  science,  in  addition  to  the  forces  and  phenomena  of  the  lower  sciences, 
deals  with  a  new  force  and  a  new  group  of  phenomena,  and  therefore  with 
new  doctrines  and  new  methods.  —  Joseph  Le  Conte  :  Popular  Science 
Monthly,  Vol.  XIV,  February,  1879,  P-  43°- 

To  make  a  man  a  machine  is  to  make  him  anything  but  productive. 
That  such  a  result  can  never  be  reafized  in  fact  's  self-evident  ;  that  it 
sliould  ever  be  conceived  of  in  thought  is  an  evidence  of  how  little  trouble 
even  the  greatest  writers  on  political  economy  have  given  themselves  con- 
cerning the  real  nature  of  the  being  with  whose  actions  they  deal.  If  tlie 
laborer  is  an  engine,  his  motive  power  is  fuel  ;  if  he  is  a  man,  his  motive 
power  is  hope.  It  is  psychological  rather  than  physiological  forces  which 
keep  him  in  motion.  His  will,  and  not  merely  his  muscle,  is  an  economic 
agent,  and  he  is  to  be  lured,  not  pushed,  in  the  way  of  productive  effort.  — 
J.  B.  Clark  :  Philosophy  of  Wealth,  pp.  53-54. 

In  this  chapter  the  word  nal/irc  will  be  used  to  denote  all 
classes  of  phenomena,  whether  physical,  vital,  or  even  psychic, 
into  which  the  intellectual  or  rational  clement  does  not  enter, 


Economy  of  Nature  and  Mind.  241 

while  the  word  mi)id  will,  for  the  sake  of  brevity,  be  employed 
in  the  somewhat  popular  or  conventional  sense  of  rational  or 
intellectual,  the  two  terms  thus  mutually  excluding  each  other, 
and  taken  together  covering  all  possible  phenomena.  This 
broad  classification  will  be  seen  to  be  useful  and  indeed  neces- 
sary, although  the  specific  object  is  somewhat  narrower,  viz., 
that  of  emphasizing  the  distinction  between  that  system  of 
economy  which  is  based  upon  the  actions  of  the  human  animal 
and  that  which  is  based  upon  the  actions  of  the  rational  man. 
The  former  is  the  system  of  the  Physiocrats,^  Adam  Smith,^ 

1  "  Pas  trop  gouverner."  —  Le  Marquis  d'Argenson. 

"  Laissez  faire  et  laissez  passer."  —  De  Gournay. 

"  Qu'on  maintienne  I'entiere  liberte  de  commerce;  car  la  police  du  commerce 
interieur  et  exterieur  la  plus  sure,  la  plus  exacte,  et  la  plus  profitable  a  la  nation 
et  a  I'etat,  consiste  dans  la  pleine  liberte  de  la  concurrence."  —  Quesnay  : 
Max  hue  XXV. 

"  Tons  les  travaux  des  hommes  peuvent,  en  quelque  sorte,  devcnir  productifs 
par  inherence,  au  moyen  d'un  ordre  de  depenses  conforme  a  I'ordre  naturel  des 
besoins.  Get  ordre  s'etablit  de  lui-meme.  La  police  ne  doit  point  s'en  meler  : 
En  y  touchant  elle  le  confondrait,  et  elle  contribuerait  a  introduire  le  desordre 
qui  peut  rendre  tous  les  travaux  steriles."  —  Dupont  de  Nemours:  Abrege  des 
priticipes  de  reccnotnie politique,  1772. 

^  The  views  of  Adam  Smith  relative  to  competition  and  the  natural  laws  of 
trade  are  perhaps  best  set  forth  in  Chap.  VII  of  Vol.  I  of  his  Wealth  of  Nations, 
entitled  :  Of  the  Natural  and  Market  Price  of  Gommodities.  In  Chap.  VIII 
they  are  applied  to  the  wages  of  labor.  He  is,  however,  chiefly  concerned  with 
the  freedom  of  trade,  and  his  strictures  upon  all  attempts  on  the  part  of  govern- 
ment to  regulate  it  are  found  in  nearly  all  parts  of  the  work.  See  especially 
Chaps.  I  and  V  of  Vol.  II.  These  strictures,  of  course,  relate  largely  to 
transportation,  and  especially  to  bounties,  duties,  subventions,  etc.  The 
following  passage,  however,  relates  to  exchange,  and  may  be  taken  as  indi- 
cating the  attitude  of  his  mind  on  the  relations  of  the  state  to  industrial  action  : 

"  When  the  Government,  in  order  to  remedy  the  inconveniences  of  a  dearth, 
orders  all  the  dealers  to  sell  their  corn  at  what  it  supposes  a  reasonable  price,  it 
either  hinders  them  from  bringing  it  to  market,  which  may  sometimes  produce  a 
famine  even  in  the  beginning  of  the  season  ;  or,  if  they  bring  it  thither,  it  enables 
the  people,  and  thereby  encourages  them  to  consume  it  so  fast,  as  must  necessarily 
produce  a  famine  before  the  end  of  the  season.  The  unlimited,  unrestrained 
freedom  of  the  corn  trade,  as  it  is  the  only  effectual  preventative  of  the  miseries 
of  a  famine,  so  it  is  the  best  palliative  of  the  inconveniences  of  a  dearth  ;  for  the 
inconveniences  of  a  real  scarcity  cannot  be  remedied  ;  they  can  only  be  palliated." 
—  Wealth  of  Nations,  Vol.  II,  p.  103. 


242  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

Ricarclo,^  Malthus,^  Herbert  Spencer,^  and  the  modern  indi- 
vidualists. The  latter  was  foreshadowed  by  Augusta  Comte, 
but  has  never  taken  any  systematic  shape  except  in  Dynamic 
Sociology  with  which  the  present  work  naturally  connects 
itself.  Although  its  distorted  image  is  reflected  in  numerous 
more  or  less  obnoxious  forms  from  the  mirror  of  modern  public 
opinion,  its  real  character  is  quite  unfamiliar  to  the  greater 
number  even  of  the  best  informed  persons. 

Comte  recognized  the  influence  of  mind  in  society  and  placed 
psychology  in  its  proper  position  in  his  hierarchy  of  the  sciences, 
but  he  refused  to  regard  it  as  a  distinct  science,  and  treated  it 
under  the  name  of  "transcendental  biology."  Nevertheless, 
in  his  discussions  he  gave  considerable  weight  to  it,  and  laid 
stress  on  the  elements  of  prevision  and  the -control  of  social 
phenomena.      Spencer,  on  the  contrary,  while  he  treated  psy- 

^  "  The  natural  price  of  labour  is  that  price  which  is  necessary  to  enable  the 
labourers,  one  with  another,  to  subsist  and  to  perpetuate  their  race,  without 
either  increase  or  diminution." — David  Ricardo  :  Principles  of  Political  Economy 
and  Taxation,  p.  70. 

"  Like  other  contracts,  wages  should  be  left  to  the  fair  and  free  competition  of 
the  market,  and  should  never  be  controlled  by  the  interference  of  the  legislature." 
—  David  Ricardo  :  Ibid.,  p.  82. 

2  The  now  so  celebrated  Malthusian  law  or  doctrine,  as  stated  in  Chap.  I  of  the 
Essay  on  the  Principle  of  Population  (pp.  4-6,)  is  as  follows  : 

"  Population,  when  unchecked,  goes  on  doubling  itself  every  twenty-five  years, 
or  increases  in  a  geometrical  ratio.  .  .  . 

"  Considering  the  present  average  state  of-  the  earth,  the  means  of  subsistence, 
under  circumstances  the  most  favourable  to  human  industry,  could  not  possibly 
be  made  to  increase  faster  than  in  an  aiithmetical  ratio.  .  .  . 

"  The  power  of  population  being  in  every  period  so  much  superior,  the  increase 
of  the  human  species  can  only  be  kept  down  to  the  level  of  the  means  of  subsis- 
tence by  the  constant  operation  of  the  strong  law  of  necessity,  acting  as  a  check 
upon  the  greater  power." 

8  Social  Statics  abridged  and  revised  ;  The  Man  verstis  the  State  ;  Justice  ; 
passim. 

The  Malthusian  doctrine  is  quite  clearly  restated  and  reaffirmed  in  his  Principles 
of  Ethics,  Vol.  I,  p.  29S.  Adam  .Smith's  remark  relative  to  speculations  in  corn 
is  almost  exactly  repeated  in  the  Social  Statics  (Abridged  ed.  p.  104)  and  in  the 
Sins  of  Legislators  (see  same  volume,  p.  339)  the  speculator  is  characterized  as 
"  simply  one  whose  function  it  is  to  equalize  the  supply  of  a  commodity  by 
checking  unduly  rapid  consumption." 

I 

I 
I 
< 

I 

I 


Economy  of  Nature  and  Mmd.  243 

chology  at  length  and  assigned  it  the  same  position,  viz., 
between  biology  and  sociology,  failed  to  make  it  in  any  proper 
sense  the  basis  of  either  his  sociology  or  his  ethics,  both  of 
which  are  made  to  rest  squarely  upon  biology.  His  psychol- 
ogy, therefore,  which  indeed,  was  written  before  his  biology, 
and  largely  from  the  standpoint  of  metaphysics,  stands  isolated 
and  useless  in  his  system  of  synthetic  philosophy. 

It  was  early  observed  that  astronomical  and  physical  phe- 
nomena were  uniform  and  invariable,  and  it  was  also  perceived 
that  the  actions  of  animals,  though  much  more  complicated, 
follow  fixed  laws  which  could  be  understood  and  taken  advan- 
tage of  by  man.  That  the  simplest  human  actions,  such  as 
those  of  children,  were  equally  uniform  and  determinable  was 
scarcely  more  than  the  result  of  observation.  Nothing  was 
more  natural  than  the  generalization  that  the  acts  of  adults  do 
not  differ  generically  from  those  of  children,  and  the  wider 
generalization  that  all  human  activities  and  all  social  phe- 
nomena are  as  rigidly  subject  to  natural  law  as  are  the  activities 
of  children  and  animals  and  the  movements  of  terrestrial  and 
celestial  bodies,  was  but  an  additional  short  step.  The  early 
political  economists  seized  upon  this  specious  bit  of  reasoning 
and  made  it  the  corner-stone  of  their  science,  formulating  from 
it  their  great  laws  of  trade,  industry,  population,  and  wealth. 

It  is  curious  that  this  altogether  sound  abstract  principle, 
the  indispensable  foundation  of  all  economic  and  social  science, 
should  have  led  to  the  greatest  and  most  fundamental  of  all 
economic  errors,  an  error  which  has  found  its  way  into  the 
heart  of  modern  scientific  philosophy,  widely  influencing  public 
opinion,  and  offering  a  stubborn  resistance  to  all  efforts  to 
dislodge  it.  This  error  consists  in  practically  ignoring  the 
existence  of  a  rational  faculty  in  man,  which,  while  it  does  not 
render  his  actions  any  less  subject  to  natural  laws,  so  enor- 
mously complicates  them  that  they  can  no  longer  be  brought 
within  the  simple  formulas  that  suffice  in  the  calculus  of  mere 
animal   motives.     This   element    creeps   stealthily  in   between 


244  Social  Syji/hcsis  of  the  Factors. 

the  child  and  the  adult,  and  all  unnoticed  puts  the  best  laid 
schemes  of  economists  and  philosophers  altogether  aglee.  A 
great  psychic  factor  has  been  left  out  of  the  account,  the  intel- 
lectual or  rational  factor,  the  cause,  origin,  and  nature  of  which 
were  considered  in  Part  II.  From  what  was  there  said  it  must 
appear  that  this  factor  is  so  stupendous  that  there  is  no  room 
for  astonishment  in  contemplating  the  magnitude  of  the  error 
which  its  omission  has  caused. 

Although  the  question  is  primarily  a  psychological  one,  still, 
it  is,  as  we  now  perceive,  also  an  economic  one,  and  it  will  be 
profitable  to  consider  it  now  from  this  latter  point  of  view. 
There  are  two  distinct  kinds  of  economics  which  may  be  called 
biological  economics  and  psychological  economics,  or  the  eco- 
nomics of  life  and  the  economics  of  mind.  The  word  economics 
is  here  used  in  its  narrow  or  primary  sense.  The  question  is 
one  of  economy,  and  it  is  of  the  first  importance  to  contrast 
sharply  these  two  kinds  of  economy,  the  economy  that  prevails 
in  the  animal  world,  in  the  domain  of  life,  in  organic  nature 
generally,  with  the  economy  that  prevails  in  the  human  sphere, 
in  the  realm  of  mind,  in  the  domain  of  reason. 

Every  one  is  now,  since  Darwin,  familiar  with  the  general 
nature  of  animal  economics.  It  is  the  survival  of  the  fittest 
in  the  struggle  for  existence.  It  is  the  mere  physics  of  life, 
the  pure  unmodified  and  undirected  psychic  forces,  as  defined 
in  Chap.  XV,  working  themselves  out  in  nature.  Just  as  in 
the  physical  world  and  the  great  clash  of  mechanical  forces  the 
superior  prevail  and  produce  the  observed  results,  so  in  this 
animal  physics  it  is  superior  force  that  counts  and  might  is 
ever  uppermost.  The  animal  forces  are  their  instincts,  appe- 
tites, wants  —  in  short,  their  desires.  These  are  ever  seeking 
satisfaction  and  onl\'  lack  of  strength  can  prevent  them  from 
attaining  it. 

It  was  formerly  supposed  that  organic  nature  was  economical 
of  its  energies.  The  facts  of  adaptation,  while  they  gave  rise  to 
the  theological  error  of  special  creation,  gave  rise  at  the  same 


Economy  of  Nature  and  Mind.  245 

time  to  the  biological  error  of  natural  economy.  In  the  first 
place  it  was  supposed  that  the  adaptation  was  always  perfect. 
This  was  repeatedly  asserted  and  much  dwelt  ui)on  in  early 
ante-evolution  days.  It  is  still  widely  believed  with  the  modi- 
fication that  while  a  changing  environment  constantly  disturbs 
the  equilibrium,  natural  selection  as  constantly  tends  to  restore 
it.  Weismann,  in  the  authorized  translation  of  his  Essays, 
allows  the  statement  to  stand  that  "each  existing  species 
shows  the  purpose  of  its  being  in  every  detail  of  its  structure, 
and  in  its  perfect  adaptation  to  the  conditions  under  which  it 
lives.  But  it  is  only  adapted  so  far  as  is  actually  necessary, 
only  so  far  as  to  make  it  fittest  to  survive,  and  not  a  step 
further."  1  But  even  this  much  cannot  now  be  admitted,  since, 
as  will  be  hereafter  explained,  the  struggle  for  existence  con- 
sumes the  organic  energy  and  dwarfs  all  beings  that  engage  in 
it.  The  notion  of  perfect  economy  naturally  goes  along  with 
that  of  perfect  adaptation.  Nature  was  regarded  as  the  great 
economist  from  whom  man  was  to  copy.  Biologists,  of  course, 
now  know  better  than  this,  and  yet  it  continues  to  be  reaffirmed 
by  popular  writers.  Even  Mr.  Spencer  has  failed  to  strike  out 
of  his  revised  edition  of  Social  Statics  (1S92)  the  remark  of 
the  original  edition  (1850)  that  "with  a  perfect  economy, 
Nature  turns  all  forces  to  account.'  ^ 

It  is  indeed  true  that  nature  creates  nothing  that  is  neces- 
sarily useless,  that  everything  produced  has  a  possible  utility. 
This  follows  from  the  genetic  method  of  evolution.  Every- 
thing that  exists  is  pushed  into  existence  by  a  vis  a  tcrgo. 
This  is  the  efficient  cause,  and  nature  works  only  through 
efficient  causes.  The  universal  life  force  is  perpetually  creating 
new  forms,  and  these  must  be  adapted  to  their  environment, 
otherwise  they  cannot  even  be  brought  into  being.  But  this 
adaptation  need  only  reach  the  minimum  stage.  If  it  is  suf- 
ficient to  insure  continuance  the  end  is  attained,  though  higher 
degrees    are    always    being    aimed   at.     The  means,  however, 

1  Essays,  Vol.  II,  Oxford,  1S92,  p.  29.  ^  American  edition,  1S92,  p.  178. 


246  Social  Synlhesis  of  the  Factors. 

through  which  this  adaptation  is  accomplished  are  not  the  most 
economical  means  conceivable.  They  often  seem  to  be  the 
least  economical  conceivable.  They  are  just  those  that  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  case  combine  to  produce.  Provided  the 
end  be  accomplished  the  character  of  the  means  is  wholly  im- 
material from  a  purely  biological  standpoint. 

The  extravagance  of  these  means  has  become  a  common 
subject  of  discussion,  and  the  facts  that  have  accumulated  are 
of  a  surprising  character.  A  few  of  these  were  enumerated  in 
Dynamic  Sociology  (Vol.  II,  p.  87,)  but  any  number  of  other 
cases  might  be  adduced.  Thus  in  a  lecture  on  the  herring  by 
Prof.  Huxley,  after  giving  10,000  as  probably  an  underestimate 
of  the  number  of  ripe  eggs  shed  in  spawning  by  a  moderate- 
sized  female  herring,  he  remarks  :  "  Suppose  that  every  mature 
female  herring  lays  10,000  eggs,  that  the  fish  are  not  interfered 
with  by  man,  and  that  their  numbers  remain  approximately  the 
same  year  after  year,  it  follows  that  9,998  of  the  progeny  of 
every  female  must  be  destroyed  before  they  reach  maturity. 
For  if  more  than  two  out  of  the  10,000  escape  destruction,  the 
number  of  herrings  will  be  proportionately  increased."  ^ 

Darwin,  as  all  know,  was  so  struck  with  the  redundant 
fertility  of  the  organic  world  and  the  necessary  destruction 
involved  that  he  made  it  the  starting  point  of  all  his  investiga- 
tions. One  of  his  earliest  observations  is  recorded  in  a  foot- 
note in  his  Journal  of  Researches, ^  as  follows  :  "  I  was 
surprised  to  find,  on  counting  the  eggs  of  a  large  white  Doris 
[kind  of  sea-slug]  how  extraordinarily  numerous  they  were. 
From  two  to  five  eggs  (each  three-thousandths  of  an  inch  in 
diameter)  were  contained  in  a  spherical  little  case.  These 
were  arranged  two  deep  in  transverse  rows  forming  a  ribbon. 
The  ribbon  adhered  by  its  edge  to  the  rock  in  an  oval  spire. 
One  which  I  found,  measured  nearly  twenty  inches  in  length 

'  A  lecture  delivered  at  the  National   Fisheries   I'^.xhibition,   Norwich,   April   21, 
1881.     Nature,  April  28,  18S1,  Vol.  XXIII,  p.  612. 
2  New  York,  1S71,  p.  201. 


Economy  of  Nature  and  Mind.  247 

and  half  in  breadth.  By  counting  how  many  balls  were  con- 
tained in  a  tenth  of  an  inch  in  the  row,  and  how  many  rows  in 
an  equal  length  of  the  ribbon,  on  the  most  moderate  computa- 
tion there  were  six  hundred  thousand  eggs.  Yet  this  Doris 
was  certainly  not  very  common  :  although  I  was  often  search- 
ing under  the  stones,  I  saw  only  seven  individuals,  No 
fallacy  is  more  coimnon  zvith  Jiatitralists,  than  that  the  nuvi- 
bers  of  an  individual  species  depend  on  its  powers  of  propaga- 
tion!' 

These,  of  course,  are  much  more  moderate  cases  than 
many  that  have  been  cited.  According  to  M.  Ouatrefages  two 
successive  generations  of  a  single  plant-louse  [plant-lice  are 
parthenogenetic]  would  cover  eight  acres.  The  vegetable 
kingdom  is  equally  full  of  examples.  A  large  chestnut  tree  in 
June  probably  contains  as  much  as  a  ton  of  pollen.  Consider- 
ing the  size  of  a  pollen-grain  the  number  on  such  a  tree  would 
be  next  to  inconceivable.  Certain  pines  are  almost  equall)' 
prolific  of  their  male  spores,  and  these  pine  pollen-grains  are 
very  light  so  as  to  be  wafted  on  the  wind  to  immense  distances. 
The  "showers  of  sulphur"  that  are  sometimes  reported  to 
have  fallen  in  the  states  bordering  on  the  great  lakes  have 
proved  to  consist  of  such  pollen-grains  that  continuous  south 
winds  had  borne  from  the  great  forests  of  the  long-leaved  pine 
that  border  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Many  herbs,  as  orchids,  the 
broom-rape,  etc.,  produce  minute  seeds  in  vast  quantities,  and 
some  of  these  are  rare  plants.  Burst  a  puff-ball  and  there 
arises  from  it  a  cloud  that  fills  the  air  for  some  distance 
around.  This  cloud  consists  of  an  almost  infinite  number  of 
exceedingly  minute  spores,  each  of  which,  should  it  by  the 
rarest  chance  fall  upon  a  favorable  spot,  is  capable  of  repro- 
ducing the  fungus  to  which  it  belongs. 

The  defenders  of  natural  economy  who  are  acquainted  with 
such  facts  excuse  them  on  the  ground  of  their  necessity. 
They  say  that  it  is  the  only  way  in  which  organic  life  can 
progress.     Thus   Prof.  Grant  Allen,   in  treating  the  origin  of 


24^  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

fruits,  remarks  :  "Those  plants  which  merely  cast  their  naked 
embryos  adrift  upon  the  world  to  shift  for  themselves  in  the 
fierce  struggle  of  stout  and  hardy  competitors  must  necessarily 
waste  their  energies  in  the  production  of  an  immense  number 
of  seeds.  In  fact,  calculations  have  been  made  which  show  that 
a  single  scarlet  corn-poppy  produces  in  one  year  no  less  than 
50,000  embryos  ;  and  some  other  species  actually  exceed  this 
enormous  figure."  ^  The  late  Prof.  E.  L.  Youmans,  the  leading 
American  disciple  of  Herbert  Spencer,  and  an  uncompromising 
individualist,  once  used  the  following  language  :  "  Nature 
seems  to  have  been  no  more  economical  of  her  mental  than  of 
her  material  resources.  There  is  a  prodigality  in  her  ways 
which  a  narrow  philosophy  cannot  comprehend.  Of  her  pro- 
fusion of  flowers,  but  few  issue  in  fruit  ;  of  her  myriads  of 
eggs,  but  few  are  hatched  ;  of  her  numerous  tribes  of  life 
appearing  in  the  remote  past,  multitudes  are  extinct  ;  and,  of 
the  achievements  of  her  intellect,  the  great  mass  is  lost  in 
oblivion.  But,  through  all  her  seeming  waste.  Nature  has, 
nevertheless,  a  grand  economy.  She  gives  the  widest  chances, 
under  a  system  which  favors  the  best  ;  the  failures  are  rejected 
and  the  fittest  survive."  ^  Spencer  himself  hints  at  an  explana- 
tion of  this  wide-spread  state  of  things  when  he  says  :  "Those 
comjilex  influences  underlying  the  higher  orders  of  natural 
l)henomena,  but  more  especially  those  underlying  the  organic 
world,  work  in  subordination  to  the  law  of  probabilities.  A 
plant,  for  instance,  produces  thousands  of  seeds.  The  greater 
part  of  these  are  destroyed  by  creatures  which  live  upon  them, 
or  fall  into  places  where  they  cannot  germinate.  Of  the 
young  plants  produced  by  those  wdiich  do  germinate,  many  are 
smothered  by  their  neighbors  ;  others  are  blighted  by  insects, 
or  eaten  up  by  animals;  and,  /;/  tJic  average  of  eases,  only  one 
of  them  i:)roduces  a  perfect  specimen  of  its  species  which, 
escaping    all    dangers,    brings    to    maturity    seeds    enough    to 

1  Cornhill  Magazine  for  August,  1878,  Vol.  XXXVIII,  p.  180. 

2  Popular  Science  Monthly,  Vol.  V,  New  Vork,  August,  1874,  p.  494. 


Ecouomv  of  Nature  and  Mind,  249 

continue  the  race.      Thus  it  is   with  every  kind  of  creature. 
And   he  goes  on  to   show  that   civilization   has   developed   in 
substantially  the  same  way,  ignoring,  however,  the  psychologic 
factor. 

A  few  writers  have  taken  a  somewhat  less  optimistic  view. 
Dr.  Asa  Gray  remarks  :  "  The  waste  of  being  is  enormous,  far 
beyond  the  common  apprehension.  Seeds,  eggs,  and  other 
germs,  are  designed  to  be  plants  and  animals,  but  not  one  of  a 
thousand  or  of  a  million  achieves  its  destiny.  Those  that  fall 
into  fitting  places  and  in  fitting  numbers  find  beneficent  pro- 
vision, and,  if  they  were  to  wake  to  consciousness,  might  argue 
design  from  the  adaptation  of  their  surroundings  to  their  well- 
being.  But  wdiat  of  the  vast  majority  that  perish.'  As  of  the 
light  of  the  sun,  sent  forth  in  all  directions,  only  a  minute  por- 
tion is  intercepted  by  the  earth  or  other  planets  where  some  of 
it  may  be  utilized  for  present  or  future  life,  so  of  potential 
organisms,  or  organisms  begun,  no  larger  proportion  attain  the 
presumed  end  of  their  creation."  And  he  immediately  proceeds 
to  quote  to  the  same  effect  from  the  article  he  has  been  con- 
sidering in  the  Westminster  Review  ;  "  When  we  find,  as  we 
have  seen  above,  that  the  sowing  is  a  scattering  at  random, 
and  that,  for  one  being  provided  for  and  living,  ten  thousand 
perish  unprovided  for,  we  must  allow  that  the  existing  order 
would  be  accounted  as  the  worst  disorder  in  any  human 
sphere  of  action."  ^ 

The  last  sentence  quoted  from  this  reviewer  is  precisely  to 
our  present  point.  No  one  denies  that  all  this  waste  in  the 
inorganic  world  is  necessary,  because  neither  man  nor  mind  is 
responsible  for  it.  No  one  either  will  contest  that  in  the  long 
run  this  method  has  actually  resulted  in  what  we  recognize  as 
general  organic  progress,  although  it  is  well  established  that 
retrogression  may  result  as  easily  as  progression,  and  certainly 
has  resulted  to  a  great  extent.     But  the  algebraic  sum  is  what 

1  Social  .Statics  abridged  and  revised,  New  York,  1892,  pp.  237-23S. 

2  Darvviniana,  by  Asa  Gray,  New  York,  1877,  pp.  372-373. 


250  Social  Sy)i//icsis  of  the  Facial's. 

we  have,  and  if  there  was  a  beginning  in  some  primordial  form, 
as  most  biologists  suppose,  that  sum  is  quite  a  plus.  Nor  will 
any  one  object  to  having  nature's  method  fully  explained  and 
exposed,  and  thoroughly  taught  as  a  great  truth  of  science.  It 
is  only  when  it  is  held  up  as  a  model  to  be  followed  by  man 
and  all  are  forbidden  to  "meddle"  with  its  operations  that  it 
becomes  necessary  to  protest.  I  shall  endeavor  still  further  to 
show  that  it  is  wholly  at  variance  with  anything  that  a  rational 
being  would  ever  conceive  of,  and  that  if  a  being  supposed  to 
be  rational  were  to  adopt  it  he  would  be  looked  upon  as  insane. 
Amid  all  this  literature,  only  a  small  part  of  which  can  be 
noticed  here,  there  has  not  been,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  any 
attempt  to  formulate  the  true  law  of  biologic  economics.  Much 
has  been  said  of  the  law  of  parsimony,  which  is  a  very  subordi- 
nate one  sometimes  called  into  exercise.  But  of  the  great  law 
of  prodigality,  which  is  universal,  no  adequate  definition  has 
yet  been  offered.  We  have  seen  that  from  its  genetic  charac- 
ter the  organic  force  is  incapable  of  producing  any  necessarily 
useless  form.  Its  products,  while  they  only  rarely  possess  an 
actual  value,  nevertheless  must  all  possess  a  potential  value. 
This  part  of  the  law  may  therefore  be  expressed  by  the  formula 
that  every  creation  of  organic  nature  lias  witliin  it  tJic  possibility 
of  success.  Thus  far  the  biologic  law  is  economical.  But,  as 
we  have  seen,  only  the  minutest  fraction  of  that  which  is 
created  becomes  an  actual  success.  The  definition  must  there- 
fore have  another  member  to  cover  this  part.  Mr.  Spencer,  as 
quoted  above,  suggested  that  it  involved  the  doctrine  of  proba- 
bilities. This  does  not  seem  precisely  to  express  it.  It  is 
more  correct  to  call  it  a  process  of  trial  and  error.  The  funda- 
mental principle  may  be  called  the  necessity  for  certainty,  or 
the  paramount  importance  of  certainty,  while  the  process  con- 
sists in  the  multiplication  of  chances.  There  seems  to  be  no 
limit  in  nature  to  the  degree  of  energy  that  may  be  put  forth 
in  the  direction  of  securing  certainty.  The  chances  of  survival, 
though  they  may  seem  to  be  abundant,   will   be   multiplied   a 


EcoiioDiy  of  Nature  and  Aliiid.  251 

thousand  fold  in  order  that  certainty  may  be  made  a  thou- 
sand times  certain.  The  complete  law  of  biologic  economics 
may  therefore  be  expressed  in  the  following  form  : 

1.  All  organic  energy  results  in  potential  utility. 

2.  Actual  utility  is  secured  through  the  indefinite  multipli- 
cation of  efforts. 

It  thus  appears  that  in  biology,  while  nothing  takes  place 
which  does  not  secure  some  advantage,  however  slight,  the 
amount  of  energy  expended  in  gaining  this  advantage  bears  no 
fixed  proportion  to  the  value  of  the  result.  Nature  acts  on  the 
assumption  that  her  resources  are  inexhaustible,  and  while  she 
never  buys  a  wholly  useless  article  she  usually  pays  an  extrava- 
gant price  for  it.  The  expressions  natural  selection  and  sur- 
vival of  the  fittest  both  contain  the  significant  implication  that 
the  bulk  of  things  are  not  selected,  and  that  only  the  select 
few  who  prove  fit  survive,  while  all  else  perishes.  The  first 
member  of  the  biologic  law  of  economy  may  be  characterized 
by  the  term  practical.  The  second  member  may  in  like  manner 
be  characterized  by  the  term  prodigal.  Nature  is  therefore  at 
once  the  most  practical  and  the  most  prodigal  of  all  econo- 
mists ;  practical  in  that  she  never  makes  anything  which  has 
not  the  elements  of  utility,  prodigal  in  that  she  spares  no 
expense  in  accomplishing  even  the  smallest  result. 

Nature  may  be  said  to  be  engaged  in  creating  every  con- 
ceivable form.  Every  one  is  familiar  with  the  wonderful 
variety  in  the  actual  forms  of  vegetable  and  animal  life.  But 
these,  innumerable  as  they  are,  only  represent  nature's  suc- 
cesses. Intermediate  between  them  there  must  be  imagined 
an  infinite  number  of  failures  —  conceiv^able  forms  in  the 
production  of  which  the  organic  energy  has  expended  itself  in 
vain,  and  which  really  represent  a  much  greater  expenditure 
than  that  which  has  been  required  to  create  all  that  exists. 
Again,  among  the  successful  forms  there  are  all  degrees  of 
success.  There  are  the  vigorous  and  robust,  rejoicing  in  a  full 
measure  of  vitality  and  marching  forward  toward  the  posses- 


252  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

sion  of  the  earth  ;  and  there  are  the  weak  and  languishing, 
which  the  former  class  is  gradually  crowding  out  of  existence. 
Between  these  there  are  all  the  intermediate  grades.  But  even 
the  successful  are  only  temporarily  so.  Like  human  empires 
they  have  their  rise  and  fall,  and  the  path  of  natural  history, 
like  that  of  human  history,  is  strewn  with  the  remains  of  fallen 
dynasties  and  the  ruins  of  extinct  races. 

This  law  may  be  illustrated  in  physics  as  well  as  in  biotics. 
If  the  expenditure  of  energy  be  designated  as  the  cost  of  any 
given  result,  then  it  may  be  said  in  general  that  natitre  tends  to 
exaggerate  iJie  cost  of  zvhatever  is  produced.  Thus,  it  may  be 
assumed  that  the  most  economical  way  in  which  a  river  can 
flow  would  be  in  a  straight  line  from  its  source  to  its  mouth. 
But  even  if  it  were  to  begin  in  this  way  it  would  soon  become 
irregular,  sinuous,  and  crooked,  and  then  more  and  more 
crooked,  until  at  length  the  distance  traversed  by  every  drop 
of  water  would  be  at  least  doubled.  This  physical  law  which 
has  been  called  "  the  rythm  of  motion  "  and  rests  on  the  "  insta- 
bility of  the  homogeneous,"  prevails  also  in  the  organic  world. 
The  tendency  is  everywhere  to  exaggerate  the  irregularities  of 
normal  development.  This  is  often  carried  so  far  as  to  result 
in  the  production  of  abnormalities  that  cause  their  own  extinc- 
tion. Such  were  doubtless  the  strange  dragons  of  Mesozoic 
time,  the  perhaps  stranger  mammals  of  early  Tertiary  time, 
the  still  more  recent  mastodon  and  mammoth,  the  moa  and 
aptcryx,  and  other  wingless  birds,  while  the  living  elephant 
and  other  overgrown  creatures  must  also  doubtless  soon  disap- 
pear. In  the  vegetable  kingdom  the  coal  flora  is  full  of 
examples,  as  is  also  the  less  known  flora  of  the  Trias  and  Jura, 
and  we  still  have  many  waning  types,  such  as  the  maidenhair 
tree  and  the  mammoth  and  redwood  trees,  whose  paleontological 
record  shows  that  they  are  just  passing  off  the  stage.  Many 
other  living  plants,  either  through  parasitism,  as  the  Rafllesia, 
or  through  extreme  specialization,  as  many  orchids  and  yuccas, 
further    exemplify    this    law.       Such    monstrosities    inevitably 


Economy  of  Nature  and  Mind. 


^53 


perish  with  the  slightest  alteration  in  their  material  surround- 
ings. The  progress  of  organic  development  has  thus  been  to 
a  large  extent  the  successive  creation  of  types  that  have 
contained  within  themselves  the  elements  of  their  own  de- 
struction—  that  have,  as  it  were,  broken  down  with  their  own 
weight.  New  ones  of  course  have  succeeded  them,  adapted 
for  the  time  being  to  their  environment,  but  destined  in  turn 
to  outgrow  their  conditions  and  perish  from  the  same  cause. 
This  rhythmical  character  of  organic  progress  is  therefore 
essentially  self-defeating,  the  only  progress  taking  place,  if 
any,  being  the  marginal  increment  resulting  from  the  excess  of 
the  pluses  over  the  minuses.  This  is  the  characteristic  of  all 
genetic  progress.  Teleological  progress  takes  place  according 
to  an  entirely  different  law,  involving  a  true  economy  of  energy. 
In  this  sketch  of  natural  or  biologic  economics  I  have  not 
gone  into  the  physical  explanation  of  the  reason  for  the 
difference  between  it  and  what  I  shall  now  distinguish  as 
human  or  rational  economics,  as  set  forth  in  Dynamic  Sociology 
(Vol.  I,  p.  73  ;  Vol.  II,  p.  99ff.,)  viz.,  that  in  the  former 
effects  are  only  just  equal  to  causes.  The  organic  force  is 
applied  directly  to  the  object  to  be  transformed,  and  the  forms 
to  be  created  are  molded  into  the  required  shape  by  an 
infinite  number  of  minute  impacts,  the  sum  of  which  is  repre- 
sented by  the  transformation  effected.  No  advantage  is  taken 
of  any  mechanical  principle  whereby  the  effect  is  made  to 
exceed  the  energy  expended,  as  was  shown  in  the  last  chapter 
to  be  the  normal  characteristic  of  all  intellectual  action.  There 
is,  it  is  true,  a  certain  class  of  facts  in  which  natural  selection 
imitates  rational  design  so  closely  in  its  ultimate  products  that 
it  was  formerly  supposed,  and  is  still  supposed  by  many,  that 
they  must  be  the  result  of  intelligent  direction.  Sharp  teeth 
and  claws,  for  example,  are  similar  to  edged  and  pointed  tools 
or  weapons,  and  take  advantage  of  the  principle  of  the  inclined 
plane  in  the  form  represented  by  the  wedge,  and  this  may  in 
some  cases  be  carried  so  far  as  to  involve  the  principle  of  the 


2  54  Social  Synf/icsis  of  the  Factors. 

screw,  as  in  certain  spirally  arranged  seed-vessels  that  bore 
into  the  ground  to  plant  their  seeds.  Other  cases  were 
mentioned  in  Chap.  XXVII.  It  is  also  a  fact  that  in  the 
arrangement  of  muscles  and  the  passage  of  tendons  through 
their  cartilaginous  sheaths  the  principle  of  the  lever  and 
fulcrum  is  utilized  to  a  greater  or  less  extent.  All  such  cases, 
however,  constitute  exceptions  to  the  law  of  biologic  economy, 
and  only  serve  to  show  how  instinctively  all  men  recognize  the 
distinction,  from  the  surprise  and  interest  felt  at  seeing  nature 
do  anything  that  seems  to  involve  rational  economy.  That 
distinction  is,  that  the  latter  is  teleological  and  deals  with  final 
causes,  while  the  former  is  genetic  and  deals  with  efficient 
causes.  This  means  that  while  organic  forms  are  merely 
pushed  into  existence  by  the  pelting  of  atoms  from  behind, 
and  are  fortuitous,  or  literally  chance  products,  human  creations 
are  conceived  in  advance  by  the  mind,  designed  with  skill  for 
definite  purposes,  and  wrought  by  the  aid  of  a  variety  of 
mechanical  jDrinciples,  such  as  those  mentioned  above,  by 
which  means  the  energy  expended  is  small,  usually  trifling,  in 
proportion  to  the  result  accomplished.  The  inventive  faculty 
of  man  is  the  primary  application  of  reason.  No  other  animal 
possesses  it,  not  even  to  the  extent  of  wielding  a  weapon  that 
is  not  a  part  of  its  organic  structure.^  The  beaver,  indeed, 
builds  dams  by  felling  trees,  but  its  tools  are  its  teeth,  and  no 

^  See  p.  184,  supra.  This  statement,  made  in  my  address  as  vice-president  of 
the  Section  of  Economic  Science  and  Statistics  of  the  American  Association  for 
the  Advancement  of  Science,  at  the  Rochester  Meeting  in  August,  1892  (Proceed- 
ings, Vol.  XLI,  p.  307),  of  which  this  chapter  is  an  expansion,  has  been  called  in 
question  as  contradicted  in  accounts  given  by  certain  African  travelers,  especi- 
ally Uu  Chaillu  and  Ijiittikofer,  of  the  gorilla  and  chimpanzee.  I  have,  therefore, 
taken  the  trouble  to  investigate  the  matter  and  I  find  that  no  modification  of  the 
text  is  required.  The  impression,  indeed,  prevails  that  these  animals,  at  least 
the  chimpanzees,  sometimes  employ  clubs  in  self-defense  ;  but  no  writer  has,  I 
think,  stated  that  he  has  seen  them  do  so,  or  even  himself  believes  that  such  is 
the  case,  although  there  is  a  common  report  in  Western  Africa  to  this  effect,  and 
the  natives  have  fanciful  notions  as  to  the  intelligence  of  these  creatures.  They 
usually  confound  the  two  animals,  and  from  their  observed  resemblance  to  man 
attribute  to  them  certain  human  actions.     The  following  passage  in  Buttikofer's 


EcouQiny  of  Nature  and  Mind.  255 

further  advantage  is  taken  than  that  which  results  from  the 
way  the  muscles  are  attached  to  its  jaws.  The  warfare  of 
animals  is  waged  hterally  with  tooth  and  nail,  with  horn  and 
hoof,  with  claw  and  spur,  with  tusk  and  trunk,  with  fang  and 
sting  —  always  with  organic,  never  with  mechanical  weapons. 
And  whatever  work  is  done  b"  animals  is  always  done  with 

Reisebilder  aus  Liberia  (Vol.  I,  pp.  229-230)  probably  contains  all  there  is  in  these 
reports  :  — 

'■'■\)itx  baboon  —  so  wird  in  ganz  Liberia  der  Chimpanse  genannt — wird  allge- 
mein  fiir  ein  iiber  den  andern  Thieren  stehendes  Wesen  gehalten.  .  .  .  Man 
erzahlt  unter  anderm  vom  baboon,  dass  er  auf  zwei  Beinen  gehe,  wie  der  Mensch, 
dass  alte  Exemplare  nicht  klettern,  sich  aber  niit  einem  Priigel  in  der  Hand  gegen 
Angriffe  zur  Wehre  setzen,  mit  geballten  Fausten  auf  der  breiten  Urust  trommeln 
und  briillen,  dass  man  es  meilenweit  in  der  Runde  horen  konne  (also  ganz  das 
niimliche,  was  uns  iiber  den  Gorilla  berichtet  wird)." 

The  belief  of  some  that  the  chimpanzee  possesses  the  art  of  making  fire  rests 
on  still  more  slender  evidence.  The  same  author  gives  (ibid.,  p.  230)  the  follow- 
ing account,  made  to  him  by  an  old  African  hunter  who  had  spent  his  best  years 
in  the  pursuit  of  these  and  other  wild  animals  in  that  region,  which  doubtless 
furnishes  the  foundation  for  this  and  other  prevalent  notions  :  — 

"Du  hast  gewiss  auf  deinen  Jagden  schon  jene  auffallenden,  reingehaltenen, 
freien  Stellen  im  Walde  angetroffen,  iiber  die  man  sich  gewohnlich  keine  Rechen- 
schaft  geben  kann.  Das  sind  des  baboons  Feuerstatten.  Die  baboons  haben  nam- 
lich  die  Gewohnheit,  in  alien  moglichen  Dingen  den  Menschen  nachzuahmen. 
Auf  diesen  Platzen  nun  tragen  sie  trockenes  Holz  zusammen  und  schichten  es 
zu  einem  grossen  Stosse  auf.  Hierauf  thut  einer  der  Bande,  als  ob  er  das  Holz 
in  Brand  steckte,  worauf  dann  alle  zusammen  das  vermeintliche  Feuer  erst  vor- 
sichtig,  nach  und  nach  immer  starker  anblasen,  bis  ihnen  zuletzt  fast  die  Zunge 
aus  der  Kehle  hangt.  Hierauf  kauern  sie  rund  um  den  Holzstoss  nieder,  setzen 
die  Ellenbogen  auf  die  Kniee  und  breiten,  gleichsam  um  sich  zu  warmen,  die  Hande 
aus.  So  kann  man  sie  bei  nassem  Wetter  halbe  Tage  lang  geduldig  neben  dem 
eingebildeten  Feuer  sitzen  sehen." 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  these  animals,  like  all  those  of  the  ape  family,  have 
great  powers  of  mimicry,  and  this  might  readily  lead  the  natives  into  extravagant 
ideas  of  their  sagacity.  That  nothing  can  be  relied  upon  that  is  not  carefully 
observed  and  verified  by  scientific  men  is  clear  from  the  following  further  remark 
of  Piittikofer  in  the  same  work  (Vol.  II,  p.  350)  :  — 

"Nach  den  Aussagen  der  Eingebomen  zu  urtheilen,  wiirde  ein  ausgewachsener 
Chimpanse  dem  Gorilla  so  wohl  an  Grosse  als  auch  an  Korperkraft  gleichkom- 
men,  und  spielt  derselbe  iiberhaupt  in  ihren  Sagen  als  Sinnbild  von  Kraft  und 
Klugheit  eine  bedeutende  Rolle.  Einige  ganz  alte  Exemplare  beiderlei  Ge- 
schlechts,  die  in  unsern  Besitz  gelangten,  haben  jedoch  den  unumstosslichen 
Beweis  geliefert,  das  die  Erzahlungen  der  Eingebomen,  wenigstens  was  die  Grosse 
betrifft,  in  hohem  Maasse  iibertrieben  sind." 


256  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

tools  that  nature  has  provided  through  a  long  course  of  develop- 
ment, none  of  which  takes  advantage  of  any  principle  of 
physics  further  than  as  already  stated. 

It  is  in  rational  man,  therefore,  that  the  first  application  of 
anything  worthy  of  the  name  of  economy  is  made.  Nature  has 
no  economy.  Only  through  foresight  and  design  can  anything 
be  done  economically.  Rivers  thus  constructed  (canals,  mill- 
races,  irrigating  ditches,  etc.,)  are  straight,  or  as  nearly  so  as 
true  economy  requires,  and  Prof.  Schiaparelli's  inference,  from 
the  supposed  existence  upon  the  planet  Mars  of  extensive 
water  ways  stretching  across  its  disk  in  right  lines,  that  it  is 
inhabited  by  rational  beings,  is  generally  felt  to  be  a  legitimate 
one,  if  the  facts  are  as  alleged.  Everything  that  is  done 
under  the  direction  of  the  intellect  is  as  economical  as  the 
degree  of  intelligence  will  permit.  All  failures  to  attain  this 
maximum  economy  are  due  to  ignorance  —  to  lack  of  acquaint- 
ance with  the  conditions  of  the  problem.  The  degree  of 
economy  therefore  for  the  same  degree  of  intellectual  penetra- 
tion will  be  exactly  proportioned  to  the  amount  of  knowledge 
possessed. 

Nature's  way  of  sowing  seed  is  to  leave  it  to  the  wind,  the 
water,  the  birds  and  animals.  The  greater  part  falls  in  a  mass 
close  to  the  parent  plant  and  is  shaded  out  or  choked  to  death 
by  its  own  abundance.  Only  the  few  seeds  that  chance  to  be 
transported  by  one  agency  or  another  to  some  favorable  spot 
and  further  happen  to  be  covered  up,  can  grow.  The  most  of 
those  that  germinate  never  attain  maturity  on  account  of 
hostile  surroundings,  and  only  the  rarest  accidents  of  fortune 
live  long  enough  to  continue  the  race.  To  meet  this  enormous 
waste  correspondingly  enormous  quantities  of  seed  are  pro- 
duced. Such  is  nature's  economy.  How  different  the  economy 
of  a  rational  being  !  He  prepares  the  ground,  clearing  it  of  its 
vegetable  comj^etitors,  then  he  carefully  plants  the  seeds  at  the 
proper  intervals  so  that  they  shall  not  crowd  one  another,  and 
after  they  have  sprouted  he  keeps  off  their  enemies,  whether 


Ecojiouiy  of  Nature  and  Mind.  257 

vegetable  or  animal,  supplies  water  if  needed,  even  supplies  the 
lacking  chemical  constituents  of  the  soil,  if  he  knows  what 
they  are,  and  thus  secures,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  vigorous 
growth  and  fruition  of  every  seed  planted.  This  is  the  economy 
of  mind. 

A  closer  analysis  shows  that  the  fundamental  distinction  * 
between  the  animal  and  the  human  method  is  that  tJie  cnviroii- 
vicjit  transforvis  the  aniiual,  while  man  transforjus  the  envirou- 
Dicnt.  This  proposition  holds  literally  from  whatever  standpoint 
it  be  contemplated.  It  is,  indeed,  the  full  expression  of  the  fact 
above  stated,  that  the  tools  of  animals  are  organic,  while  those 
of  man  are  mechanical.  But  if  we  contrast  these  two  methods 
from  the  present  standpoint,  which  is  that  of  economics,  we  see 
at  once  the  immense  superiority  of  the  human,  or  psychological, 
over  the  animal  or  biological  method.  The  economy  is  of  two 
kinds,  economy  of  time  and  economy  of  energy.  It  has  taken 
much  longer  to  develop  any  one  of  the  organic  appliances  of 
animals,  whether  for  supplying  its  wants  or  fighting  its  ene- 
mies, than  the  entire  period  during  which  man  has  possessed 
any  arts,  even  the  simplest.  And  yet  such  appliances,  how- 
ever complete  or  effective,  have  not  sufficed  to  enable  any 
species  possessing  them  greatly  to  expand  its  territorial  range, 
or  to  migrate  far  from  the  region  to  which  it  was  originally 
adapted.  Man,  on  the  other  hand,  without  acquiring  any  new 
organic  adaptations,  by  the  manufacture  of  tools,  weapons, 
clothing,  habitations,  etc.,  by  subjecting  the  animal  and  vege- 
table kingdoms  to  his  service,  and  by  the  power  of  "looking 
before  and  after" — in  short,  by  the  aid  of  reason  —  has  taken 
possession  of  the  whole  earth,  and  is  the  only  animal  whose 
habitat  is  not  circumscribed.  This,  as  just  remarked,  he  has 
accomplished  in  a  comparatively  brief  period,  i.  e.,  wholly 
since  Tertiary  time,  and  chiefly  since  the  glacial  epoch. 

The  economy  of  energy  is  fully  as  great  as  that  of  time,  and 
may  be  regarded  as  the  cause  of  the  latter.  It  is  the  result  of 
art.     It  has  been  seen  that  the  mechanical  products  of  rational 


2 58  Social  Syu//icsis  of  the  Factors. 

design  necessarily  utilize  some  economic  principle  through 
which  the  muscular  force  necessary  to  be  exerted  is  less  for 
any  given  result  accomplished  than  it  would  otherwise  be.  In 
the  great  majority  cf  cases  the  result  could  not  be  produced  at 
all  without  the  aid  of  the  proper  implement  or  mechanism 
1  for  producing  it,  and  this  becomes  more  and  more  the  case  as 
machinery  gains  upon  hand  labor.  The  sum  total  of  all  such 
devices  forms  the  basis  of  the  mechanic  arts.  Few  realize 
how  completely  civilization  depends  upon  art  in  this  sense. 
The  utter  helplessness  of  man  without  the  arts  is  well  illus- 
trated in  Ue  Foe's  Robinson  Crusoe,  but  the  author  saw 
clearly  that  in  order  to  enable  his  hero  to  survive  at  all,  even 
in  a  tropical  climate  where  nature's  productions  were  exuber- 
ant, he  must  provide  himself  from  stores  of  the  wrecked  vessel 
with  a  considerable  supply  of  tools  and  other  artificial  appli- 
ances. What  was  true  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  thus  circum- 
stanced, is  much  more  true  of  the  great  majority  of  mankind 
who  inhabit  what  we  call  temperate  climates,  i.  e.,  climates  in 
which  the  temperature  sometimes  falls  ten  or  twenty  degrees 
below  the  freezing  point,  and  where  for  several  months  each 
year  all  vegetative  functions  cease.  One  winter  without  art 
would  suffice  to  sweep  the  entire  population  north  or  south  of 
the  thirtieth  parallel  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 

We  are  so  much  accustomed  to  the  terms  labor  and  produc- 
tion that  we  rarely  stop  to  think  what  they  really  mean. 
Neither  of  these  terms  has  any  place  in  animal  economics. 
All  labor  consists  in  an  artificial  transformation  of  man's 
environment.  Nature //vc/z/a-s-  nothing  in  the  politico-economic 
sense  of  the  word.  Production  consists  in  artificially  altering 
the  form  of  natural  objects.  The  clothes  we  wear  are  derived 
chiefly  from  the  sheep,  the  ox,  the  silk-worm,  and  a  few  other 
animals,  the  cotton  plant,  flax,  hem]-),  and  a  few  other  ])lants; 
but  between  the  latest  stage  at  which  nature  leaves  these 
latter  and  the  final  form  in  which  they  are  ready  for  use  there 
are  many  transformations  requiring  much  art  and  great  labor. 


Ecoiiouiy  of  Nature  and  Mind.  259 

The  houses  that  man  inhabits  once  consisted  chiefly  of 
trees,  clay,  and  beds  of  solid  rock.  These,  too,  have  been 
transformed  by  labor  performed  with  tools  and  machinery. 
In  like  manner  the  entire  cycle  of  human  achievement 
might  be  gone  through.  It  would  be  found  everywhere  the 
same. 

The  arts  taken  in  their  ensemble  constitute  material  civiliza- 
tion, and  it  is  this  that  chiefly  distinguishes  man  from  the  rest 
of  nature.  It  is  due  exclusively  to  his  mind,  to  the  rational  or 
intellectual  faculty.  That  is,  it  is  an  exclusively  psychological 
distinction.  Civilization,  which  is  human  development  beyond 
the  animal  stage,  goes  forward  under  the  economics  of  mind, 
while  animal  development  takes  place  under  the  economics  of 
life.  The  difference  between  these  two  kinds  of  economics  is 
fundamental.  They  are  not  merely  dissimilar,  they  are  the 
direct  opposites  of  each  other.  The  psychologic  law  tends  to 
reverse  the  biologic  law.  This  latter  law  may  be  briefly 
defined  as  the  sjii'vival  of  the  best  adapted  stntctares.  Those 
structures  which  yield  most  readily  to  changes  in  the  environ- 
ment persist.  It  has  therefore  been  aptly  called  "survival  of 
the  plastic."  ^  The  environment,  though  ever  changing,  does 
not  change  to  conform  to  the  structures  but  in  the  contrary 
direction,  always  rendering  the  partly  adapted  structures  less 
adapted,  and  the  only  organic  progress  possible  is  that 
which  accrues  through  changes  of  structure  that  tend  to 
enable  organic  beings  to  cope  with  sterner  and  ever  harder 
conditions.  In  any  and  every  case  it  is  the  environment 
that  works  the  changes  and  the  organism  that  undergoes 
them. 

But  the  most  important  factor  in  the  environment  of  any 
species  is  its  organic  environment.  The  hardest  pressure  that 
is  brought  to  bear  upon  it  comes  from  the  living  things  in  the 

1  Address  of  Mr.  Clarence  King  on  Catastrophism  in  Geology,  delivered  at  the 
Yale  Scientific  School  in  1877.  The  principle  is  not  as  different  from  that  of 
natural  selection  and  the  survival  of  the  fittest  as  Mr.  King  seems  to  suppose. 


26o  Social  Synf/icsis  of  the  Factors. 

midst  of  which  it  lives,  and  though  paradoxical,  it  is  those 
beings  which  most  resemble  it  that  crowd  it  most  severely. 
The  least  advantage  gained  by  one  species  from  a  favorable 
change  of  structure  tends  to  make  it  spread  and  infringe  upon 
others,  and  soon  to  acquire,  if  not  strenuously  resisted,  a 
complete  monopoly  of  all  things  that  are  required  for  its 
support.  Any  other  species  that  consumes  the  same  elements 
must,  unless  equally  vigorous,  be  crowded  out.  This  is  the 
true  meaning  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  It  is  essentially  a 
process  of  competition,  but  it  is  competition  in  its  purest 
form,  wholly  unmixed  with  either  moral  or  intellectual 
elements,  which  is  never  the  case  with  competition  in  human 
society. 

The  prevailing  idea  is  wholly  false  which  claims  that  it  is  the 
fittest  possible  that  survive  in  this  struggle.  The  effect  of 
competition  is  to  prevent  any  form  from  attaining  its  maximum 
development,  and  to  maintain  a  certain  comparatively  low  level 
of  development  for  all  forms  that  succeed  in  surviving.  This 
is  a  normal  result  of  the  rhythmic  character  of  all  purely  natural, 
i.e.,  not  rational  or  teleological,  phenomena,  as  explained  a  few 
pages  back.  The  greater  part  of  what  is  gained  in  the  flood 
tide  is  lost  in  the  ebb.  Wherever  competition  is  wholly 
removed,  as  through  the  agency  of  man  in  the  interest  of  any 
one  form,  great  strides  are  immediately  made  by  the  form  thus 
protected,  and  it  soon  outstrips  all  those  that  depend  upon 
competition  for  their  motive  to  advancement.  Such  has  been 
the  case  with  the  cereals  and  fruit  trees,  and  with  domestic 
animals,  in  fact,  with  all  the  forms  of  life  that  man  has 
excepted  from  the  biologic  law  and  subjected  to  the  law  of 
mind.  The  supposed  tendency  of  such  forms  to  revert  to  their 
original  wild  state,  about  which  so  much  has  been  said,  is 
simply  their  inability  when  remanded  to  their  pristine  competi- 
tive struggle  to  maintain  the  high  position  which  they  had 
acquired  during  their  halcyon  days  of  exemption  from  that 
struggle,  which  they  can  no  more  do  than  they  can  attain  that 


Eco7tomy  of  Nature  and  Mind.  261 

position  while  subjected  to  it.^  Competition,  therefore,  not 
only  involves  the  enormous  waste  which  has  been  described, 
but  it  prevents  the  maximum  development,  since  the  best  that 
can  be  attained  under  its  influence  is  far  inferior  to  that  which 
is  easily  attained  by  the  artificial,  i.e.,  the  rational  and  intelli- 
gent, removal  of  that  influence. 

Hard  as  it  seems  to  be  for  modern  philosophers  to  understand 
this,  it  was  one  of  the  first  truths  that  dawned  upon  the  human 
intellect.  Consciously  or  unconsciously  it  was  felt  from  the 
very  outset  that  the  mission  of  mind  was  to  grapple  with  the 
law  of  competition  and  as  far  as  possible  to  resist  and  defeat  it. 
This  iron  law  of  nature,  as  it  may  be  appropriately  called 
(Ricardo's  "  iron  law  of  wages  "  is  only  one  manifestation  of  it), 
was  everywhere  found  to  lie  athwart  the  path  of  human  progress, 
and  the  whole  upward  struggle  of  rational  man,  whether  phys- 
ical, social  or  moral,  has  been  with  this  tyrant  of  nature  —  the 
law  of  competition.  And  in  so  far  as  he  has  progressed  at  all 
beyond  the  purely  animal  stage  he  has  done  so  through  triumph- 
ing little  by  little  over  this  law  and  gaining  somewhat  the  mas- 
tery in  this  struggle.  In  the  physical  world  he  has  accomplished 
fhis  so  far  as  he  has  been  able  through  invention,  from  which 
have  resulted  the  arts  and  material  civilization.  Every  imple- 
ment or  utensil,  every  mechanical  device,  every  object  of  design, 
skill,  and  labor,  every  artificial  thing  that  serves  a  human  pur- 
pose, is  a  triumph  of  mind  over  the  physical  forces  of  nature 
in  ceaseless  and  aimless  competition.  The  cultivation  and 
improvement  of  economic  plants  and  the  domestication  of 
useful  animals  involve  the  direct  control  of  biologic  forces  and 
the  exemption  of  these  forms  of  life  from  the  operation  of  the 

1  I  have  long  regarded  this  as  one  of  the  most  important  truths  in  biology,  and 
am  disposed  to  emphasize  it  the  more  because  it  seems  to  have  been  wholly  over- 
looked and  an  erroneous  view  maintained  by  leading  biologists.  I  first  gave 
distinct  expression  to  it  in  an  article  on  the  Local  Distribution  of  Plants  in  the 
Popular  .Science  Monthly  for  October,  1876  (Vol.  IX,  pp.  676-684),  and  have 
illustrated  it  on  numerous  subsequent  occasions  (see  especially  the  Forum, 
December,  iS86,  Vol.  II,  pp.  347-349). 


262  Social  Svii/ficsis  of  the  Factors. 

great  organic  law  which  dwarfs  their  native  powers  of  develop- 
ment. All  human  institutions  —  religion,  government,  law, 
marriage,  custom  —  together  with  innumerable  other  modes  of 
regulating  social,  industrial,  and  commercial  life,  are,  broadly 
viewed,  only  so  many  ways  of  meeting  and  checkmating  the 
principle  of  competition  as  it  manifests  itself  in  society.  And 
finally,  the  ethical  code  and  the  moral  law  of  enlightened  man 
are  nothing  else  than  the  means  adopted  by  reason,  intelligence, 
and  refined  sensibility  for  suppressing  and  crushing  out  the 
animal  nature  of  man  —  for  chaining  the  competitive  egoism 
that  all  men  have  inherited  from  their  animal  ancestors. 

One  important  fact  has  thus  far  been  left  out  of  view.  Man, 
it  is  true,  is  a  rational  being,  but  he  is  also  still  an  animal. 
He  has  struggled  manfully  against  the  iron  law  of  nature,  but 
he  is  far  from  having  overcome  it.  He  has  met  with  wonderful 
success  in  this  direction  in  his  dealings  with  it  in  the  physical 
world  ;  he  has  laid  a  firm  hand  upon  it  in  the  domain  of  organic 
life  ;  by  the  aid  of  well  ordained  institutions  he  has  dealt  it 
heavy  blows  in  its  social  aspects  ;  and  the  suicidal  tendency 
which  it  exhibits  when  operating  upon  dense  masses  of  people 
has  enlisted  against  it  with  telling  effect  the  counter-law  (ff 
ethics.  But  all  this  has  fallen  far  short  of  completely  eradi- 
cating the  deep-seated  principle  that  lies  at  the  foundation  of 
animal  economics.  Aside  from  these  few  directions  in  which 
he  has  succeeded  in  partially  su})planting  the  competitive 
economics  of  life  by  the  cooperative  economics  of  mind,  he  is 
still  as  completely  under  the  dominion  of  the  former  as  is  any 
other  organic  being. 

The  fact  thus  far  omitted  in  this  chapter  is  the  principal  one 
that  it  was  sought  to  enforce  in  the  early  chapters  of  Part  H, 
viz.,  that  the  intellect  itself  was  developed  under  the  influence 
of  the  jjurely  egoistic  law.  That  extraordinary  brain  develop- 
ment which  so  exclusively  characterizes  man  was  acquired 
through  the  primary  principle  of  advantage.  Brain  does  not 
differ   in   this   respect  from  horns  or  teeth  or  claws.      In  the 


Ecouoiuy  of  Nature  and  Aliud.  26 


o 


great  struggle  which  the  human  animal  wont  through  to  gain 
his  supremacy  it  was  brain  that  finally  enabled  him  to  succeed, 
and  under  the  biologic  law  of  selection,  where  superior  sagacity 
meant  fitness  to  survive,  the  human  brain  was  gradually  built 
up,  cell  upon  cell,  until  the  fully  developed  hemispheres  were 
literally  laid  over  the  primary  ganglia  and  the  cranial  walls  en- 
larged to  receive  them.  The  brain  of  man  was  thus  itself 
originally  an  engine  of  competition.  Intellect  was  a  mere  ser- 
vant of  the  will.  It  \vas  only  by  virtue  of  its  peculiar  character 
through  which  it  was  capable  of  perceiving  that  the  direct 
animal  method  was  not  the  most  successful  one,  even  in  the 
bare  struggle  for  existence,  that  it  so  early  began,  in  the  inter- 
est of  pure  egoism,  to  antagonize  that  method  and  to  adopt 
the  opposite  and  indirect  method  of  design,  calculation,  and 
cooperation. 

The  competition  which  we  see  in  the  social  and  industrial 
world,  competition  aided  and  modified  by  reason  and  intelli- 
gence, while  it  does  not  differ  in  either  its  principle  or  its  pur- 
pose from  the  competition  among  animals  and  plants,  differs 
widely  in  its  methods  and  its  effects.  We  see  in  it  the  same 
soulless  struggle,  the  same  intense  egoism,  the  same  rhythm  by 
which  existing  inequalities  are  increased,  the  same  sacrifice  of 
the  weaker  to  the  stronger,  and  the  same  frenzy  of  the  latter 
to  possess  and  monopolize  the  earth.  But  along  with  this  the 
antagonistic  principle  is  also  in  active  operation.  This  is  the 
law  of  mind  making  for  a  true  economy  of  energy.  It  is 
mind  alone  that  perceives  that  competition  is  wasteful  of 
energy,  and  therefore  in  the  interest  of  the  very  success  that 
competition  seeks,  it  proceeds  to  antagonize  competition  and 
to  substitute  for  it  art,  science,  and  cooperation.  By  the  aid 
of  these  the  success  of  those  who  use  them  is  increased  many 
hundred  fold.  In  society,  therefore,  competition  tends  to 
defeat  itself  by  inciting  against  it  the  power  of  thought.  It 
cannot  endure.  It  is  at  best  only  a  temporary  condition  or 
transition   state.      On   the   one  hand  the  competition  between 


264  Social  Syuf/icsis  of  the  Factoj^s. 

men  resolves  itself  into  a  competition  between  machines,  and 
instead  of  the  fittest  organism  it  is  the  fittest  mechanism  that 
survives.  On  the  other  hand  the  competition  between  indi- 
viduals becomes  a  competition  between  associations  of  individ- 
uals. Such  associations  are  the  result  of  cooperation  which  is 
the  opjiosite  of  competition.  Economists  talk  of  free  compe- 
tition, but  in  society  this  is  scarcely  possible.  Only  the 
simplest  operations,  those  conducted  with  the  least  intelligence, 
can  continue  for  any  length  of  time  to  compete.  The  least 
skilled  forms  of  labor  approach  this  condition  most  closely,  but 
freedom  is  here  limited  by  the  relations  that  labor  sustains  to 
capital.  The  chief  difference  between  employers  and  employed 
until  recently  has  been  that  the  former  have  used  the  rational 
method  while  the  latter  have  used  the  natural  method.  Capital 
has  always  combined  and  cooperated  while  labor  has  only  com- 
peted. But  such  is  the  power  of  the  former  method  and  its 
superiority  over  the  latter  that  competing  labor  has  had  no 
chance  in  the  struggle  with  combining  capital.  Latterly,  how- 
ever, labor  has  begun  in  a  small  way  to  call  to  its  aid  the  psy- 
chological economy  of  cooperation.  So  strange  and  unexpected 
did  this  seem  that  it  was  at  first  looked  upon  as  a  crime  against 
society,  and  many  still  so  regard  it.  Indeed,  all  the  laws  of 
modern  nations  are  framed  on  the  assumption  that  capital 
naturally  combines  while  labor  naturally  competes,  and  attempts 
on  the  part  of  labor  to  combine  against  capital  are  usually  sup- 
pressed by  the  armed  force  of  the  state,  while  capitalists  are 
protected  by  the  civil  and  military  authority  of  the  state  against 
such  assumed  unlawful  attempts.  This  enormous  odds  against 
which  labor  struggles  in  its  effort  to  adopt  and  apply  the  eco- 
nomics of  mind  will  greatly  retard  the  progress  of  industrial 
reform  which  aims  to  place  labor  on  an  equal  footing  with 
capital  in  this  respect. 

Competition  between  industrial  associations,  or  corporations, 
follows  the  law  of  competition  among  rational  beings  in  gen- 
eral, and  is  only  a  brief  transition  stage,  to  be  quickly  followed 


Economy  of  Nature  and  Mind.  265 

by  further  combination.  Just  as  competition  among  individ- 
uals soon  resulted  in  that  combination  by  which  corporations 
were  formed,  so  competition  between  corporations  soon  results 
in  the  amalgamation  of  all  in  any  one  industry  into  one  great 
compound  corporation,  now  commonly  under  the  form  of  a 
"trust."  This  process  of  compound  cooperation  does  not 
stop  until  the  whole  product  of  the  given  industry  is  controlled 
by  a  single  body  of  men.  Such  a  body  thus  acquires  absolute 
power  over  the  price  of  the  commodity  produced,  the  only 
limit  being  that  of  the  maximum  profit  that  it  can  be  made  to 
yield.  Thus,  for  example,  all  the  petroleum  a  country  pro- 
duces may  be  under  the  control  of  a  single  trust,  and  in  order 
to  secure  for  the  members  of  that  association  of  capitalists  the 
maximum  return  for  the  petroleum,  its  price  will  be  placed  at 
the  highest  figure  that  consumers  of  petroleum  will  pay,  rather 
than,  in  whole  or  in  part,  return  to  candles  or  resort  to  gas  or 
electricity.  There  is  no  necessary  relation  that  this  price  shall 
bear  to  the  cost  of  production.  It  may  be  twenty  or  it  may 
be  a  hundred  times  that  cost,  and  the  profits  accruing  to  the 
trust  will  be  proportional.  The  same  may  be  true  of  coal  or 
iron  or  sugar  or  cotton,  and  even  in  the  case  of  breadstuffs 
something  analogous  can  occur  through  the  device  which  is 
known  as  "cornering."  All  monopolies  rest  on  the  same 
principle,  and  they  are  as  common  in  the  industries  of  trans- 
portation and  exchange  as  in  that  of  production.  Not  only  do 
the  railroad^  and  telegraph  systems  furnish   illustrations,  but 

^  "  It  soon  became  evident  also  that  the  competition  on  which  the  community 
had  counted  with  so  much  certainty  as  a  means  of  regulating  the  railway  system 
failed  utterly  to  be  a  satisfactory  means  of  securing  the  reformation  of  abuses 
and  the  lowering  of  the  fares.  .  .  .  Now  and  then  a  struggle  would  occur 
between  competing  lines,  but  it  did  not  last  long  and  was  generally  followed  by  a 
relapse  into  the  old  way  of  doing  things.  Either  some  sort  of  agreement  was 
arrived  at  l)y  which  both  companies  agreed  to  divide  traffic  or  earnings,  or  to 
maintain  rates,  or  some  other  device  was  adopted  to  abolish  competition  and  put 
combination  in  its  place.  Ultimately  one  road  would  be  bought  up  by  the  other, 
and  the  semblance  even  of  competition  would  disappear.  .  .  .  The  outcome 
would  be  an  enormous  loss  of  money,  respectively  capital,  not  merely  to  the  men 


266  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

they  may  be  found  in  the  mercantile  business  of  every  country, 
in  all  of  which  competition  is  short,  heated  and  fitful,  ending 
in  the  swallowing  up  of  the  small  industries  by  the  great  ones 
in  ever  widening  cycles. 

Bad  as  all  this  appears  to  be,  it  is  by  no  means  an  unmixed 
evil.  This  purely  egoistic  application  of  the  law  of  mind  to 
business  interests  still  bears  the  marks  of  its  economic  supe- 
riority to  the  purely  natural  method  by  preventing  the  normal 
and  necessary  waste  of  competition.  Although  this  immense 
saving  nearly  all  goes  into  the  coffers  of  the  lucky  few  who 
chance  to  control  these  great  currents  of  wealth,  nevertheless 
the  maximum  cost  to  the  consumers  of  all  classes  of  com- 
modities thus  monopolized  is  usually  less  than  it  was  when  they 
were  left  entirely  to  the  influence  of  competition.  This  may 
seem  strange  to  those  economists  who  look  upon  competition 
as  the  only  antidote  to  monopoly,  and  who  -have  been  taught 
that  its  normal  effect  is  to  keep  down  prices.  But  the  facts 
are  against  this  view,  and  it  may  be  worth  our  while  to  glance 
at  a  few  of  them.  I  cannot  do  this  more  effectively  than  by  a 
few  quotations  from  a  remarkable  paper  by  one  of  our  leading 
representative  political  economists  :^ 

"I  use  the  term  'waste'  in  a  broad  way  to  indicate  all  those 
causes  which  keep  the  price  of  goods  higher  than  they  might 
be  if  the  sellers  made  no  effort  to  attract  customers.  In 
former  times  the  sellers  of  goods  remained  quiet  in  their  places 
of  business  and  awaited  the  arrival  of  buyers.  If  one  store 
sold  cloth  at  a  lower  price  than  its  competitors,  the  buyers  of 
themselves    sought    out    the  place  and  made  their  purchases. 

who  had  put  their  money  into  the  concern,  but  to  the  country  as  a  whole.  It 
happened  at  times,  indeed,  that  a  road  was  built  merely  for  the  purpose  of  mak- 
ing some  other  competing  road  buy  it  out,  which  was  nearly  sure  to  be  done  in 
the  long  run."  The  Railway  Question.  Report  of  the  Committee  on  Transpor- 
tation of  the  American  Economic  Association.  l'ul)lications  of  the  Association, 
Vol.  II,  No.  3,  July,  1887,  pp.  28-29. 

^  The  I'rinci])les  of  Rational  Taxation,  by  Prof.  Simon  N.  Patten.  Published 
by  the  Philadelphia  Social  Science  Association  before  which  it  was  read  Nov.  21, 
1889.     25  pp.  8°. 


Economy  of  Nature  and  Mind.  267 

But  those  good  old  days  are  gone.  A  seller  must  now  be 
ever  on  the  alert  to  attract  trade  or  his  rivals  will  soon  displace 
him.  His  store  must  be  upon  a  good  street.  He  must  pay 
large  sums  for  advertising.  Agents  on  large  salaries  must  be 
sent  out  to  induce  customers  to  buy  his  goods.  These  and 
many  other  expenses  must  be  met  by  any  one  who  expects  to 
be  successful  in  trade  at  the  present  time.  But  what  is  the 
result  upon  prices.-*  Are  not  prices  in  our  stores  much  higher 
than  they  would  be  if  the  buyers  sought  the  sellers  instead  of 
the  sellers  the  buyers  }  Would  not  sewing  machines  and  organs 
be  cheaper  if  the  persons  who  desired  to  purchase  them  should 
look  up  the  dealer  instead  of  the  latter  searching  carefully  all 
over  the  city  for  them .''  The  number  of  dealers  in  any  article 
is  but  a  small  fraction  of  the  number  of  buyers,  and  they  can 
find  the  proper  store  much  more  easily  than  the  dealers  could 
hunt  up  their  customers.  ...  If  a  given  merchant  does  not 
use  all  the  familiar  means  to  advance  his  interests  some  more 
pushing  rival  will  steal  away  his  trade  ;  yet  is  the  trade  of  the 
city  as  a  whole  increased  by  all  these  efforts  to  displace  rivals  "i 
Is  any  more  soap,  coal,  or  shoes  sold  in  this  city  because  they 
are  advertised  in  the  street  cars .''  Do  all  the  circulars  our 
grocery  men  leave  at  our  doors,  increase  the  quantity  of  coffee 
and  sugar  consumed  in  the  city }  Do  the  high  rents  paid  for 
good  localities  increase  the  whole  local  trade,  or  does  the  rent 
merelv  indicate  the  advantage  which  one  rival  for  the  same 
trade  has  over  another  .'' 

A  little  thought,  I  think,  will  show  that  a  large  part  of  these 
expenses  do  not  add  to  the  general  welfare  of  the  city.  If 
they  are  incurred  by  one  of  a  number  of  rivals  he  can  gain 
trade  at  the  expense  of  the  others.  But  if  they  are  incurred 
by  all  of  the  dealers  alike  no  one  gets  more  trade  than  he 
would  have  had  without  them.  The  merchants  must  all 
charge  a  higher  price  for  their  wares  to  make  good  this 
expense  and  the  public  have  a  burden  without  a  corresponding 
benefit. 


268  Soci'a/  Syji//icsis  of  the  Factors. 

Another  form  of  waste  arises  from  a  great  increase  of  retail 
stores.  Each  new  store  has  attractions  by  which  it  secures  a 
share  of  the  trade.  Take  the  shoe  stores  of  the  city  as  a 
sample.  Think  how  thick  they  are,  sometimes  several  in  a 
single  block.  As  they  must  duplicate  the  stock  of  goods, 
employ  many  e.xtra  hands  and  pay  rent  on  man}'  unnecessary 
buildings,  is  it  any  wonder  that  the  price  of  shoes  is  so  high  .' 
Notice  also  the  increase  of  milk  and  baker's  wagons.  The 
continuous  rattle  of  their  wheels  on  our  streets  every  morning 
tells  only  too  well  the  miles  of  useless  journeying  they  neces- 
itate.  These  causes  are  at  work  in  nearly  every  line  of  retail 
trade.  A  recent  investigation  shows  that  the  number  of  retail 
dealers  in  this  country  has  increased  four  times  as  fast  as 
population. 

Keeping  these  facts  in  mind  it  is  easy  to  see  where  a  large 
part  of  the  increase  of  productive  power  has  gone.  In  propor- 
tion to  their  product  our  factories  employ  fewer  men,  but  these 
displaced  men  have  been  to  a  large  extent  absorbed  by  the 
retail  trade.  .  .  .  The  same  tendencies  show  themselves  in 
the  wholesale  trade.  Each  manufacturer  or  dealer  must  resort 
to  many  costly  means  of  preserving  his  trade,  which  are  of  no 
advantage  to  the  ultimate  consumer.  Each  one  must  do  what 
his  rivals  do  to  keep  himself  afloat,  but  the  public  must  foot 
the  bills.  Do  farmers  get  any  advantage  from  the  intense 
rivalry  of  the  firms  who  resort  to  so  many  costly  expedients  to 
sell  them  their  machinery .'  How  much  do  the  whole  body  of 
commercial  travelers,  who  are  said  to  cost  the  wholesale  trade 
;$20o,ooo,ooo  a  year,  increase  the  quantity  of  goods  which  are 
annually  sold  to  the  American  people  } 

This  enormous  waste  is  a  leading  cause  of  the  present 
tendency  to  form  trusts  or  similar  combinations.  As  soon  as 
a  trade  becomes  united  in  some  organized  way  the  whole  body 
of  these  useless  expenses  can  be  lopped  off,  and  the  resulting 
economy  is  the  main  source  of  the  increase  of  dividends.  A 
legitimate  trust  is  an  organization  to  save  waste   and   it   is   not 


EcouoDiy  of  N^ at  lire  and  A  find.  269 

likely  to  continue  long  in  existence  if  it  tries  to  raise  prices 
higher  than  they  would  have  gone  if  a  reckless  competition  had 
continued.  Of  course  the  results  of  the  saving  pass  largely 
into  the  possession  of  the  trust,  yet  saving  is  better  than 
wasting,  whoever  may  get  the  benefit.   .    .   . 

The  effect  on  prices  of  the  modern  system  of  competition 
encouraging  waste  is  the  same  as  that  of  a  monopoly  or  com- 
bination. Prices  are  forced  to  the  upper  limit,  above  which 
they  could  not  go  without  discouraging  trade.  When  the 
conditions  of  a  business  are  such  that  a  large  expenditure  of 
money  in  attracting  customers,  will  give  a  merchant  an  advan- 
tage unless  his  rivals  follow  his  example,  the  general  use  of 
extensive  advertising,  traveling  salesmen,  expensive  stores  in 
fashionable  localities,  raise  prices  far  above  the  cost  of  produc- 
tion. The  small  dealer  who  has  not  the  capital  to  increase  his 
trade  by  such  expensive  means  moves  his  store  nearer  to  the 
homes  of  the  customers,  so  that  the  advantage  of  locality  may 
in  a  measure  counteract  advantages  possessed  by  richer  rivals. 
A  multitude  of  small  stores  spring  up  to  profit  by  the  advan- 
tage of  locality,  and  prices  are  separated  still  farther  from  the 
cost  of  production  to  allow  the  dealer  to  pay  his  rent  and 
secure  his  living  from  the  small  stock  of  goods  demanded  by 
the  locality.  When  all  these  causes  get  in  full  operation,  and 
each  rival  resorts  to  new  expedients  to  draw  the  trade  of  others 
to  himself,  there  is  no  limit  to  the  rise  of  prices  except  at  the 
point  beyond  which  the  people  will  cease  to  purchase  in  large 
quantities.  So  we  have  practically  the  same  limit  to  the  rise 
of  prices  for  a  system  of  wasteful  competition  as  for  monop- 
olies. If  they  follow  their  own  interest  monopolies  cannot 
force  prices  higher  than  a  system  of  waste  can.  To  the  public 
as  buyers,  the  effect  on  retail  prices  is  the  same  under  both 
systems.  All  is  gotten  from  the  buyer  it  is  possible  to  do 
without  preventing  a  sale. 

In  the  leading  professions  the  same  influences  are  at  work 
by  which   the  price  of    services   is  forced   to  the  upper  limit. 


270  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

The  tendency  of  lawyers'  fees  is  not  towards  the  real  cost  to 
the  lawyer  in  time  and  energy,  but  towards  the  point  beyond 
which  people  would  cease  to  employ  them.  And  with  the 
doctors  the  same  tendencies  are  even  more  easily  seen. 
A  young  doctor  could  not  rely  upon  cheapness  to  attract 
business.  He  must  in  some  way  get  into  the  good  graces  of 
a  part  of  the  public,  take  an  active  part  in  some  church,  or 
society,  and  in  other  ways  get  himself  into  notice.  But  all 
these  means  of  securing  trade  cost  money,  and  he  must  make 
his  bills  large  enough  to  get  it  all  back  and  leave  enough  for  a 
good  living. 

The  old  formula  about  competition  reducing  prices  has  yet 
so  strong  a  hold  on  the  public  that  they  do  not  appreciate  the 
changes  in  the  business  methods  which  are  now  in  common  use. 
They  think  that  a  multitude  of  competitors  in  any  trade  is  a 
safeguard  to  low  prices.  Yet  these  rivals  find  that  passive 
cheapness  brings  little  trade.  Costly  agressiveness  brings  ten 
customers  where  cheap  passivity  secures  one.  Doubtless  the 
public  desire  cheapness,  but  they  are  willing  to  pay  dearly  to 
those  who  aid  them  in  the  search.  When  dealers  recognize 
these  facts  and  organize  their  business  on  an  aggressive  basis, 
real  cheapness  becomes  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  prices,  in  such 
a  business,  approximate  what  they  would  if  they  were  controlled 
by  a  trust  or  an  intelligent  monopoly. 

There  are,  then,  good  reasons  why  we  should  think  of  the 
tendencies  of  wasteful  competition  towards  higher  prices  as 
having  the  same  results  upon  prices,  and  following  the  same 
laws  that  monopolies  do.  When  we  wish  to  ascertain  the 
effects  of  present  economic  conditions  we  will  arrive  much  more 
nearly  the  trutli  if  we  think  of  a  multitude  of  our  industries  and 
trades  as  monopolies  than  if  we  adhere  to  the  old  hypothesis 
that  an  intense  competition  in  them  brings  cheapness.  The 
law  of  monojioly  governs  the  price  of  drugs  just  as  much  as  it 
does  of  sugar.  The  retail  price  has  no  more  tendency  to  con- 
form to  the  lowest   cost  of  their  production  than  the  price  of 


Economy  of  Nature  and  Mind.  271 

sugar  does  under  the  present  trust.  The  difference  is  merely 
that  in  the  latter  case  the  increased  price  passes  into  the  hands 
of  the  refiners,  while  in  the  former  it  is  wasted  by  the  large 
number  of  persons  who  get  a  living  by  handling  and  distributing 
them. 

The  public  think  that  aggressive  competition  brings  them 
cheap  goods,  because  they  assume  that  the  reduction  of  price  is 
a  necessary  result  of  the  action  of  self  interest  in  the  sellers. 
But  the  action  of  self  interest  may  lead  a  dealer  to  attract  trade 
by  expensive  means  as  well  as  by  mere  cheapness.  In  which 
way  his  self-interest  will  prompt  him  to  act  is  determined  not 
by  himself  but  by  the  social  condition  of  the  people  with  which 
he  deals.  If  the  people  are  easily  misled  and  their  standard  of 
living  does  not  require  all  their  productive  power,  aggressive 
action  on  the  part  of  the  dealer  counts  for  more  than  mere 
cheapness.  The  real  limit  of  the  upward  movement  of  prices 
is  fixed  by  the  action  of  buyers  and  not  of  sellers.  Prices 
cease  to  rise  at  that  point  above  which  the  demand  of  the 
public  would  rapidly  fall  off.  For  this  reason  the  upper  limit  of 
prices  is  the  same  for  aggressive  competition  as  for  intelligent 
monopoly.  The  increased  net  revenue  is  the  controlling 
motive  of  both  competing  sellers  and  monopolies.  The  price 
is  fixed  by  that  buyer  who,  if  he  ceased  to  buy,  would  reduce 
the  net  revenue  of  the  seller." 

I  have  quoted  thus  at  length  from  this  extraordinary  docu- 
ment because  it  presents  such  an  array  of  cogent  facts  in  such 
a  lucid  manner.  Although  the  authority  for  the  statements 
made  is  as  high  and  as  sound  as  any  that  could  be  desired, 
still  they  are  to  so  large  an  extent  statements  of  facts  of 
common  observation  that  no  authority  is  required  in  support 
of  them.  And  still  their  statement  is  required,  since,  as  is 
seen,  notwithstanding  their  clearness,  the  error  which  they 
are  calculated  to  overthrow  is  wide-spread  and  deep-seated.  The 
author's  purpose  in  presenting  them  is,  however,  widely  differ- 
ent from  the  use  which  it  is  here  proposed  to  make  of  them, 


272  Sofia/  Sv/i//icsis  of  ihc  Factors. 

and  need  not  be  discussed.  Their  value  in  the  present  con- 
nection is  ])rimarv  and  fundamental,  and  fully  justifies  the 
space  they  occupy  in  this  work.  Better  than  any  other  class 
of  facts  they  show  the  fundamental  difference  between  com- 
petition under  the  influence  of  the  rational  faculty  and  mere 
animal  or  biological  competition.  And  if  there  has  been  the 
change  to  which  Prof.  Patten  alludes  in  the  business  methods 
of  the  present  and  the  past,  it  is  a  change  which  has  been 
wrought  by  the  greater  introduction  of  the  mind  element  into 
business  affairs.  Increasing  density  of  population,  as  all  know, 
by  the  friction  it  produces  of  mind  with'  mind,  tends  of  itself  to 
sharpen  the  wits  and  increase  that  practical  form  of  intelligence 
which  counts  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  But  along  with 
this  there  has  gone  an  immense  increase  in  the  educational 
facilities  offered  in  cities.  Not  to  mention  the  improved  public 
school  system  and  lengthened  terms  of  general  study  with  the 
high  schools  added  on,  some  of  which  fit  their  pupils  for 
entering  college,  there  are  the  multiplied  business  and  com- 
mercial colleges  specially  adapted  to  teach  young  people  how 
to  transact  business,  conduct  enterprises,  and  in  general  to 
"  make  money." 

Notwithstanding  all  the  hollow  cant  about  the  "  dignity  of 
labor,"  to  work  with  one's  hands  in  any  productive  occupation 
is  looked  upon  by  all  as  degrading,  and  those  who  do  so  are 
denied  all  social  position.  To  avoid  this  worst  of  all  conditions 
and  live  by  his  wits  or  by  some  of  the  more  genteel  and  less 
debasing  occupations  is  the  supreme  effort  of  every  "  intelli- 
gent" person.  The  effect  is  to  throng  the  "learned  professions" 
with  aspirants  to  this  honor  ;  multiply  the  town  lawyers, 
attorneys,  constables,  notaries,  justices,  and  "officers"  ;  breed 
swarms  of  real  estate  agents,  insurance  agents,  bankers,  brokers, 
and  shavers  ;  overdo  all  newspaper  and  literary  enterprises  ; 
develop  a  vast  army  of  reporters,  stenographers,  typewriters, 
and  copyists;  and  make  everyone  fit  himself  to  be  at  least  a 
clerk,  or  something  besides  a  mere  laborer,  mechanic,  or  artisan. 


Economy  of  Nature  and  Mind.  273 

Immensely  overdone  as  all  these  departments  are,  they  still 
manage  to  exist  and  flourish,  and  they  do  this  by  increasing 
the  cost  of  the  products  to  the  maximum  limit  at  which  the 
public  will  use  them.  How  competition  of  this  class  can  be 
kept  up  under  such  influences  is  well  shown  by  the  number  of 
"first  class  restaurants"  in  all  large  cities,  feeding  only  a  few 
accidental  stragglers  or  wealthy  persons,  and  where  one  seems 
to  be  paying  almost  exclusively  for  the  costly  silverware  and 
mostly  idle  retinue  of  attendants. 

This  "aggressive  competition  "  also  clearly  reveals  its  origin 
in  the  mind  element  as  described  in  Chapters  XXIII  and 
XXIV.  As  the  embodiment  of  business  shrewdness  it  involves 
in  a  high  degree  the  principle  of  deception.  All  forms  of  solici- 
tation are  conducted  with  a  view  to  deceiving  the  customer. 
The  essence  of  an  advertisement  is  a  falsehood.  It  is  an 
intentional  effort  to  make  the  public  believe  that  the  particular 
article  advertised  is  either  better  or  cheaper  than  the  same 
article  sold  by  rivals,  which  the  dealer  knows  is  not  the  case. 
Every  sale  thus  secured  is  therefore  really  "  obtaining  money 
under  false  pretenses,"  which  is  nominally  a  punishable  offence, 
but  which  is  winked  at  except  in  the  most  flagrant  cases.  In 
fact,  society  is  based  on  the  normal  occurrence  of  this  form  of 
lying,  and  its  legal  recognition  is  embodied  in  the  maxim  of 
common  law,  caveat  emptor. 

Such  is  the  legitimate  effect  of  competition  among  rational 
beings.  The  law  of  nature  quickly  succumbs  to  the  law  of 
mind,  and  whether  it  continues  for  a  time,  or  whether,  as  it 
sooner  or  later  must,  it  defeats  itself  and  results  in  monopoly, 
the  general  effect  on  society  is  the  same.  If  it  be  regarded 
as  a  sad  commentary  upon  the  operations  of  a  rational  being 
that  there  is  no  escape  from  the  necessity  of  paying  the  highest 
price  for  everything  that  will  be  paid  rather  than  do  without, 
and  irrespective  of  the  cost  of  production,  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  it  is  only  the  individual  that  is  as  yet  in  any  proper 
sense  rational.     If  society  itself  were  rational  this  would  indeed 


2  74  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

seem  absurd,  and  if  it  shall  ever  become  so  no  such  absurdity- 
will  be  tolerated  for  a  moment.  Those  who  compare  society 
to  an  organism  have  failed  to  observe  that  in  this  respect  it 
resembles  only  some  of  the  very  lowest  Metazoa,  such  as 
the  hydra,  which  possesses  no  proper  presiding  and  coordi- 
nating nerve  ganglia,  or  still  more  closely  some  of  those  lower 
colonies  of  cells,  each  of  which,  like  the  individual  mem- 
bers of  society,  is  practically  independent  of  the  general  mass 
except  that  by  the  simple  fact  of  coherence  a  certain  degree 
of  protection  is  secured  to  both  the  individual  cells  and  the 
aggregated  mass.  And  yet  many  advocate  a  still  greater  in- 
dependence of  the  individual,  and  deprecate  all  steps  in  the 
direction  of  integration,  which  they  know  to  be  the  only  way 
in  which  organic  beings  can  make  any  progress  in  organization. 
So  little  have  the  principles  of  biology  impressed  themselves 
upon  the  students  of  sociology,  even  those  who  profess  a 
synthetic  grasp  of  both  fields  ! 

The  reader  cannot  have  failed  to  perceive  the  fundamental 
difference  between  the  social  phenomena  above  reviewed  and 
those  that  take  place  everywhere  in  nature  below  the  level  of 
man's  rational  faculty,  and  hence,  even  when  dealing  with  the 
universal  law  of  competition,  an  entirely  different  set  of  prin- 
ciples must  be  applied  to  man  from  those  which  can  be  applied 
to  irrational  life.  There  competition  is  free,  or  rather  it  is 
pure.  It  cfjntinues  as  long  as  the  weaker  can  survive  it,  and 
when  these  at  last  go  to  the  wall  and  the  better  adapted 
structures  survive  and'  triumph,  it  is  the  triumph  of  a  real 
superiority,  and  the  strong  and  robust  alone  are  left  to  recruit 
the  earth.  Hut  when  mind  enters  into  the  contest  the  char- 
acter of  competition  is  at  first  completely  changed,  and  later 
competition  itself  is  altogether  crushed  out,  and  while  it  is  still 
the  strong  that  survive  it  is  a  strength  which  comes  from 
indirection,  from  deception,  ai"tfulness,  cunning,  and  shrewd- 
ness, necessarily  coupled  with  stunted  moral  qualities,  and 
largely  aided  by  the  accident  of  position.      In  no  proper  sense 


Economy  of  Nature  and  Mind.  275 

is  it  true  that  the  fittest  survive.  If  this  were  their  only  func- 
tion it  is  evident  that  brains  would  be  a  positive  detriment  to 
society.  Pure  animal  competition  would  be  far  better.  It  is 
probably  the  contemplation  of  the  hopelessness  of  this  state  of 
things  which  has  given  the  gloomy  cast  to  Oriental  philosophy, 
and  it  is  no  wonder  that  those  moderns  who  consider  the  present 
order  unalterable  should  maintain  that  we  live  in  the  worst 
possible  universe.  Those  who  can  see  a  surplus  of  good  in 
things  as  they  are,  or  can  hope  for  their  improvement  under  the 
laws  of  evolution  unaided  by  social  intelligence  must  be  set  down 
as  hopelessly  blinded  by  the  great  optimistic  illusion  of  all  life. 

While  competition  is  not  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  social  de- 
sideratum, even  in  its  pure  animal  form,  much  less  in  its  aggres- 
sive human  form,  free  individual  activity  under  the  full  play 
of  all  natural  motives  is  of  the  utmost  importance.  Among 
these  motives  those  of  friendly  rivalry  and  honest  emulation  are 
legitimate,  harmless,  and  powerful.  These  competition  sup- 
presses ;  it  tends  to  choke  individual  freedom  and  clog  the 
wheels  of  social  progress.  How  can  this  true  individualism  be 
secured  and  complete  freedom  of  individual  action  be  vouch- 
safed .''  Herein  lies  a  social  paradox.  It  is  clear  from  what  has 
been  said  that  this  will  never  bring  itself  about.  The  tendencies 
are  strongly  in  the  opposite  direction.  Competition  is  growing 
more  and  more  aggressive,  heated,  and  ephemeral.  Combina- 
tion is  growing  more  and  more  universal,  powerful  and  perma- 
nent. This  is  the  result  of  the  most  complete  /aisscz  faii-e 
policy.  The  paradox  therefore  is  that  individual  freedom  can 
only  come  tJirongJi  social  regulation.  The  cooperative  effects  of 
the  rule  of  mind  which  annihilate  competition  can  only  be  over- 
come by  that  still  higher  form  of  cooperation  which  shall  stay 
the  lower  form  and  set  free  the  normal  faculties  of  man.  Free 
competition  that  shall  be  both  innocent  and  beneficial  may  be 
secured  to  a  limited  extent  in  this  way  and  in  no  other  way. 

As  a  single  illustration  of  this,  let  us  suppose  a  railroad  to 
be  constructed  alongside  of  an  existing  canal.      Negotiations 


2  76  Social  Sv/////i's/s  of  the  Factors. 

will  be  at  once  set  on  foot  on  the  part  of  the  railroad  company 
to  purchase  the  canal,  not  because  it  is  wanted,  but  merely  to 
remove  it  from  competition.  Such  negotiations  would  be  sure 
to  succeed  and  leave  the  railroad  master  of  the  field.  Competi- 
tion would  be  removed,  rates  of  transportation  increased,  and  a 
valuable  water  way  would  be  abandoned.  But  suppose  society 
in  its  collective  capacity,  however  constituted,  seeing  the  situa- 
tion and  the  danger,  were  to  step  in  and  itself  purchase  the 
canal,  and  to  continue  in  spite  of  the  railroad  to  conduct  it  in 
the  interest  of  traffic  ;  here  would  be  a  case  in  which  the  law 
of  mind  would  be  directed  to  maintaining  instead  of  destroying 
competition. 

A  new  and  re\-ised  political  economy  will  doubtless  be  largely 
devoted  to  showing,  not  so  much  the  glories  of  competition, 
which  society  does  not  enjoy,  as  how  society  may  conduct  itself 
in  order  to  secure  whatever  benefits  competition  can  offer,  and 
also  how  the  competition  that  cannot  be  prevented  can  be  shorn 
of  its  wasteful  and  aggressive  features.  Neither  should  the 
higher  attributes  of  reason  and  intelligence  be  discouraged. 
They  represent  the  true  elements  of  civilization  and  progress. 
But  these,  too,  should  be  deprived  of  their  fangs.  The  way  to 
counteract  the  evil  effects  of  mind  operating  in  the  individual  is 
to  infuse  a  larger  share  of  the  same  mind  element  into  the 
controlling  power  of  society.  Such  a  powerful  weapon  as  reason 
is  unsafe  in  the  hands  of  one  individual  when  wielded  against 
another.  It  is  still  more  dangerous  in  the  hands  of  corpora- 
tions, which  proverbially  have  no  souls. ^  It.  is  most  baneful  of 
all  in  the  hands  of  compound  corporations  which  seek  to  control 
the  wealth  of  the  world.  It  is  only  safe  when  employed  by  the 
social  ego,  emanating  from  the  collective  brain  of  society,  and 
directed  toward  securing  the  common  interests  of  the  social 
organism. 

'  "  They  cannot  commit  treason,  nor  be  outlawed,  nor  excommunicate  for  they 
have  no  souls."  —  Sir  Kdward  Coke:  Reports,  Vol.  V,  Part  X,  32  b,  London,  1826, 
p.  303  (Case  of  .Sutton's  Ilcjspital). 


Economy  of  Nahire  and  Mind.  277 

But  the  object  of  this  chapter  was  not  to  point  out  remedies 
for  social  evils.  It  was,  as  stated  at  the  outset,  to  show  that 
any  system  of  economics  which  is  to  deal  with  rational  man 
must  rest  upon  a  psychologic  and  not  upon  a  biologic  basis. 
In  full  view  of  all  the  facts  that  have  been  set  forth,  facts  that 
are  for  the  most  part  obtrusive  and  have  always  been  available 
to  all,  it  is  certainly  remarkable  that  there  should  be  any  neces- 
sity for  calling  attention  to  this  truth  ;  but  the  only  system  of 
social  economics  that  we  possess,  and  the  only  social  philosophy, 
other  than  the  one  referred  to  early  in  this  chapter,  that  has 
been  prornulgated,  completely  ignore  it  and  treat  the  human 
animal  only  as  an  animal.  Not  the  economic  writers  alone,  but 
the  great  philosophers  as  well,  persistently  cling  to  the  law  of 
nature  and  disregard  the  law  of  mind.  A  system  of  so-called 
''political  economy,"  in  which  \.\\q  political  aspect,  i.  e.,  the 
relation  of  the  state  to  society,  is  for  the  most  part  ignored, 
has  grown  up  and  been  reduced  to  a  series  of  dogmatic  canons 
which  until  recently  it  was  considered  next  thing  to  sacrilege 
to  question  or  criticise.  But  partly  with  the  increase  of  general 
intelligence,  whereby  the  mind  element  is  more  clearly  seen  in 
industrial  and  social  phenomena,  and  partly  with  the  increase 
of  critical  independence  on  the  part  of  economic  students,  the 
truth  has  at  last  begun  to  emerge  that  the  greater  part  of  these 
supposed  economic  axioms  are  not  only  open  to  criticism  but 
positively  untrue.  So  thoroughly  current  had  most  of  them 
become  that  any  fact  established  in  opposition  to  them  might 
appropriately  be  called  a  paradox,  like  some  phenomenon  that 
seemed  to  counteract  the  law  of  gravitation.  On  this  ground 
was  justified  the  title  of  a  paper  which  I  presented  to  the 
American  Economic  Association  at  Philadelphia  in  1888,^  in 
which  a  considerable  number  of  these  economic  maxims  were 
analyzed  and  shown  to  be  true  only  when  all  their  terms  were 
reversed.      A  further  examination  of  such  maxims,    in   which 

1  Some  Social  and  Economic  Paradoxes.  The  American  Anthropologist, 
Vol.  II,  Washington,  April,  1889,  pp.  1 19-132. 


278  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

I  have  been  greatly  helped  by  Dr.  E.  A.  Ross,^  professor  of 
political  economy  in  Cornell  University  and  secretary  of  the 
above-named  associatiou,  has  shown  that  this  process  of  destruc- 
tive criticism'  may  be  carried  much  further,  and  can  scarcely 
stop  until  the  entire  fabric  of  which  they  constitute  the  timbers 
has  crumbled  and  fallen.  To  substantiate  these  statements  I 
will  introduce  here  quite  a  list  of  the  more  important  cases, 
preserving  the  form  previously  adopted  and  presenting  the 
propositions  which  the  industrial  history  of  the  world  has 
established,  although  for  the  most  part  in  direct  opposition  to 
the  hitherto  accepted  tenets  of  political  economy.  They  may 
therefore  continue  to  go  by  the  name  of  Economic  Paradoxes. 

1 .  Subsistence  increases  instead  of  diminishing  with  popu- 
lation (reversal  of  the  Malthusian  dictum). 

2.  The  interest  of  the  individual  is  rarely  the  same  as  that 
of  society. 

3.  Owing  to  ignorance  of  the  remote  effects  of  actions  men 
do  not  always  do  what  is  for  their  own  interests. 

4.  Cheapness  is  a  stronger  inducement  than  quality,  and  the 
consumer  cannot  be  depended  upon  to  encourage  the  better 
producer. 

5.  Competition  raises  prices  and  rates. 

6.  Combination  often  lowers  prices  and  rates. 

7.  Free  competition  is  only  possible  under  social  regulation. 

8.  Private  monopoly  can  only  be  prevented  by  public 
mon()j)()ly. 

9.  The  hope  of  gain  is  not  always  the  best  motive  to  indus- 
try. 

10.  Public  service  will  secure  better  talent  than  private 
enterprise  for  the  same  outlay. 

1 1.  Market  values  and  social  values  are  not  identical. 

12.  The  prosperity  of  a  community  depends  as  much  upon 
the  mode  of  consumption  as  upon  the  quantity  produced. 

^  It  is  not  intended  lierel)y  to  commit  Dr.  Ross  to  all  or  any  of  these  proposi- 
tions. 


Eco7iofny  of  Nature  and  Mind.  279 

13.  Private  enterprise  taxes  the  people  more  heavily  than 
government  does. 

14.  The  social  effects  of  taxation  are  more  important  than 
its  fiscal  effects. 

15.  The  producer  cannot  always  shift  the  burden  of  taxation 
upon  the  consumer,  e.g.,  under  monopoly  and  aggressive  com- 
petition. 

16.  Protection  may  reduce  the  price  of  the  commodity  pro- 
tected, not  only  in  the  protecting  but  even  in  the  importing 
country. 

17.  Capital,  as  embodied  in  machinery,  contributes  more 
than  labor  to  the  production  of  wealth. 

18.  Wages  are  drawn  from  products  and  not  from  capital, 
and  the  "wage-fund"  is  a  myth. 

19.  Increase  of  wages  is  attended  with  increase  of  profits. 

20.  Prices  fall  as  wages  rise. 

21.  Diminished  hours  of  labor  bring  increased  production. 

22.  Reduction  of  the  time  worked  enhances  the  wages 
received. 

23.  A  man  working  alone  earns  the  same  as  when  his  wife 
and  children  also  work. 

24.  Lowering  the  rate  of  interest  may  lead  to  increased 
savings. 

This  enumeration  falls  far  short  of  exhausting  the  list,  but 
must  suffice  for  the  present  purpose.  One  may  imagine  a 
modern  economist  trained  in  the  Ricardian,  Malthusian,  and 
Manchesterian  schools  which  still  prevail  even  in  American 
universities,  looking  with  an  unbiased  mind  into  such  an  array 
of  facts  and  convincing  himself  of  their  substantial  correct- 
ness. His  situation  would  be  naturally  bewildering,  and  he 
might  at  first  cast  vaguely  about  for  an  explanation.  If  he 
should  prosecute  this  search  thoughtfully  and  fearlessly, 
intent  only  upon  the  truth,  he  must  at  length  find  the 
full  and  only  explanation  to  be  that  the  whole  farrago 
which  has  so  long  passed  for  political  economy  is  true  only 


2  So  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

of  irrational  animals  and  is  altogether  inapplicable  to  rational 
man. 

Darwin  modestly  confesses  that  he  derived  his  original 
conception  of  natural  selection  from  the  reading  of  Malthus  on 
Population.^  But  he  did  not  perhaps  himself  perceive  that  in 
applying  the  law  of  Malthus  to  the  animal  world  he  was 
introducing  it  into  the  only  field  in  which  it  holds  true.  Yet 
such  is  the  case,  and  for  the  same  reason  that  has  been  already 
given,  viz.,  that  the  advent  with  man  of  the  thinking,  knowing, 
foreseeing,  calculating,  designing,  inventing,  and  constructing 
faculty,  which  is  wanting  in  lower  creatures,  repealed  to  this 
extent  the  biologic  law,  or  law  of  nature,  and  enacted  in  its 
stead  the  psychologic  law,  or  law  of  mind. 

1  Autobiography.     Life  and  Letters,  Vol.  L  p-  68. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

MELIORISM. 

From  mere  impulse  to  true  sentiment,  and  from  sentiment  to  reason,  are 
the  psychic  steps  corresponding  to  the  series  of  benevolent  acts  which  lead 
from  promiscuous  alms-giving,  through  the  expanding  systems  of  charity, 
to  the  broadest  forms  of  philanthropy  and  deep-laid  schemes  of  humani- 
tarianism.  But  from  humanitarianism  it  is  but  one  more  step  in  the  same 
direction  to  nielioris/n,  which  may  be  defined  as  humanitarianism  minus 
all  sentiment.  Now,  meliorism,  instead  of  an  ethical,  is  a  dynamic  principle. 
It  implies  the  improvement  of  the  social  condition  through  cold  calculation, 
through  the  adoption  of  indirect  means.  It  is  not  content  merely  to  alleviate 
present  suffering,  it  aims  to  create  conditions  under  which  no  suffering  can 
exist.  —  Dynamic  Sociology^  II,  468. 

I  don't  know  that  I  ever  heard  anybody  use  the  word  "  meliorist "  except 
myself.  But  I  begin  to  think  that  there  is  no  good  invention  or  discovery 
that  has  not  been  made  by  more  than  one  person. 

The  only  good  reason  for  referring  to  the  "source"  would  be,  that  you 
found  it  useful  for  the  doctrine  of  meliorism  to  cite  one  unfashionable  con- 
fessor of  it  in  the  face  of  the  fashionable  extremes.  —  George  Eliot. 

In  her  general  attitude  towards  life,  George  Eliot  was  neither  optimist 
nor  pessimist.  She  held  to  the  middle  term,  which  she  invented  for  herself, 
of  "meliorist."  She  was  cheered  by  the  hope  and  by  the  belief  in  gradual 
improvement  of  the  mass  ;  for  in  her  view  each  individual  must  find  the 
better  part  of  happiness  in  helping  another.  —  J.  W.  Cross  :  George  Eliofs 
Life,  III,  377. 

Our  line  of  reasoning  provides  us,  then,  with  a  practical  conception 
which  lies  midway  between  the  extremes  of  optimism  and  pessimism,  and 
which,  to  use  a  term  for  which  I  am  indebted  to  our  first  living  woman- 
writer  and  thinker,  George  Eliot,  may  be  appropriately  styled  meliorism. 
By  this  I  would  understand  the  faith  which  affirms  not  merely  our  power  of 
lessening  evil  —  this  nobody  questions  —  but  also  our  ability  to  increase  the 
amount  of  positive  good.  It  is,  indeed,  only  this  latter  idea  which  can 
really  stimulate  and  sustain  human  endeavor.  —  James  Sully:  Pessimism. 
A  History  and  a  Criticism,  London,  1877,  p.  399. 


282  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

Priestley  was  the  first  (  unless  it  was  Beccaria )  who  taught  my  lips  to 
pronounce  this  sacred  truth:  That  the  greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest 
number  is  the  foundation  of  morals  and  legislation.  —  Jeremy  Bentham  : 
Works,  Vol.  X,  p.  142. 

In  equal  degrees  of  happiness,  expected  to  proceed  from  the  action,  the 
virtue  is  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  persons  to  whom  tlie  happiness 
shall  extend  ...  so  that  That  action  is  best,  which  procures  the  greatest 
happiness  for  the  greatest  numbers. — ^  Francis  Hutcheson  :  An  Inquiry 
concerning  Moral  Good  and  Evil,  II,  pp.  184,  185. 

La  massima  felicita  divisa  nel  maggior  numero.  • — ■  Cesare  Beccaria: 
Opere,  I,  p.  10. 

He  never  would  believe  that  Providence  had  sent  a  few  men  into  the 
world,  ready  booted  and  spurred  to  ride,  and  millions  ready  saddled  and 
bridled  to  be  ridden. —  Macaulay  (said  of  Richard  Rumbold  when  about 
to  be  executed)  :  History  of  Eftgland,  Works,  I,  441. 

In  I'arts  I  and  II,  I  have  attempted  to  set  forth  the  leading 
psychic  factors  of  civilization.  Although  when  viewed  in 
detail  they  may  seem  to  be  somewhat  numerous,  still,  a  general 
glance  over  the  field  will  show  that  they  may  all  be  reduced  to 
two  distinct  classes,  the  subjective  and  the-  objective  factors. 
It  is  also  possible  to  reduce  the  psychic  faculties  that  con- 
tribute to  human  progress  to  two  generalized  ones  and  call 
them  respectively  the  conative  and  intuitive  faculties.  Using 
the  term  ^vill  in  Schopenhauer's  sense  it  may  be  said  that  will 
and  intellect  constitute  the  progressive  mind-elements  of  man. 
The  subjective,  conative  faculty,  or  will,  furnishes  the  propelling 
agent,  while  the  objective,  intuitive  faculty,  or  intellect,  fur- 
nishes the  directing  agent.  Will  is  the  force,  intellect  is  the 
guide,  and  it  is  through  the  cooperation  of  these  prime  factors 
that  civilization  has  advanced. 

As  comjiared  to  mere  biologic  progress  that  of  man  has 
indeed  been  rai)id  and  brilliant,  and  it  might  be  supposed  that 
any  one  who  is  comix-tent  to  make  this  comparison,  and  a' fortiori 
one   who   has    been    to   the  i)ains  of  working  out   the  steps  by 


Me  Holism.  •  28 


o 


which  the  transition  has  taken  place,  would  be  not  only  content 
to  contemplate  so  remarkable  a  result,  but  even  exultant  over 
it.  As  a  matter  of  fact  this  is  the  attitude  of  most  writers  on 
the  general  subject.  They  see  that  nature  has  proved  capable 
of  doing  all  this,  and  they  really  do  not  consider  it  altogether 
sane  to  talk  about  any  other  way.  For  them  it  is  simply  a 
step  in  the  great  scheme  of  evolution.  It  was  to  be  and  it  is, 
like  the  condensation  of  nebulas  into  worlds,  the  development 
of  oaks  from  sea-tang  or  of  mammals  from  worms.  Although 
none  of  them  have  shown,  as  has  been  attempted  here,  how 
the  intellect  of  man  came  into  existence  under  the  laws  of 
evolution,  it  is  assumed  that  it  did  so,  and  although  no  one  has 
pointed  out,  as  has  been  done  in  this  work,  how  the'  human 
intellect  has  proceeded  to  make  civilization  possible,  it  is  also 
assumed  that  it  has  done  this  according  to  the  normal  laws 
of  evolution.  The  acts  of  man  and  the  laws  of  society  are 
regarded  as  natural  in  the  same  sense  that  the  movements  of 
the  solar  system  and  the  instincts  of  animals  are  natural. 

The  dissatisfaction  that  is  manifested  in  certain  quarters  at 
the  state  of  things  that  nature  has  thus  brought  about  is 
looked  upon  as  growing  chiefly  out  of  ignorance  of  these  wide 
truths,  as  the  result  of  narrow  views  of  the  world,  unscientific 
habits  of  thought,  and  foolish  exaggeration  of  human  power  to 
influence  such  stupendous  movements.  It  is  not  denied  that 
attempts  of  this  kind  are  sometimes  made,  but  it  is  asserted 
that  they  have  all  been  failures,  usually  that  they  have 
made  matters  worse.  If  any  one  examines  the  cases  that 
are  adduced  in  support  of  this  assertion  he  will  find  that 
they  are  confined  to  a  single  class,  viz.,  attempts  at  govern- 
mental reform.  It  is  not  perceived  that  there  exists  any  other 
class.  If  a  laisscz  fairc  philosopher  were  asked  whether  gov- 
ernment itself,  such  as  it  has  been  and  now  is,  should  be  consid- 
ered a  failure  the  reply  would  probably  be  in  the  negative,  at  least 
he  would  not  admit  that  the  particular  government  under 
which  he  happens  to  live  was  worse  than  no  government  at  all 


2  84  Social  SyjitJiesis  of  the  Factors. 

would  be,  although  it  might  be  regarded  as  exceedingly  bad,  and 
although  the  governments  of  other  countries  of  which  less  was 
known  might  perhaps  be  thought  worse  than  pure  anarchy. 
But,  it  would  probably  be  said,  government  is  a  part  of 
civilization,  it  has  developed  like  the  other  institutions,  it  is  a 
product  of  mind,  and  belongs  to  human  progress  in  general. 

At  this  point  a  few  questions  may  profitably  be  asked.  Is 
not  our  supposed  philosopher's  own  government  better  than 
any  other  .'*  He  would  probably  admit  that  it  was.  Is  it  not 
better  now  than  it  formerly  was  .''  On  this  point  there  would 
probably  be  no  hesitation  in  giving  an  affirmative  answer. 
Then  it  is  not  impossible  to  reform  government.  The  existing 
governments  of  the  world  are  not  the  very  best  they  can  be  or 
can  ever  be  made.  Other  governments  at  least  stand  a  chance 
of  being  brought  up  to  the  standard  of  our  philosopher's 
present  government,  and  as  that  is  admitted  to  be  very  bad, 
there  may,  at  least  if  his  teachings  are  heeded,  be  some  hope 
of  improving  even  that.  But  how  docs  the  improvement  of  an 
existing  government  differ  in  this  respect  from  the  origination 
of  a  government  where  none  existed  }  At  what  point  in  the 
progress  of  governments  did  it  become  preposterous  to  attempt 
to  reform  them .''  If  that  point  is  the  one  at  which  our 
philosopher  happened  to  live  and  write,  how  is  it  that  it  might 
not  have  fallen  at  some  other  time  .''  It  would  probably  be 
urged  that  all  real  reform  in  government  has  consisted  in 
restricting  its  action.  This  carried  to  its  logical  results  would 
take  us  back  to  anarchy,  and  this  we  may  assume  would  not  be 
advised.  Then  there  must  be  such  a  thing  as  governmental 
reform  somewhat  short  of  the  complete  abolition  of  govern- 
ment. What  such  reform  would  consist  in  need  not  now  be 
considered  ;  the  fact  of  its  possibility  is  all  that  is  contended 
for. 

No  one  will  deny  that  government  is  a  part  of  evolution,  a 
product  of  human  intelligence  operating  in  a  normal  manner, 
but   it   is   only  one  of  the  many   human  institutions  that  have 


Meliorism.  285 

been  developed  in  the  same  way.  The  attempts  to  reform  or 
in  any  way  change  it  belong  to  the  same  class  as  the  attempts 
to  establish  it,  and  are  also  normal.  Intelligence  has  operated 
on  government  in  the  same  way  that  it  operates  on  all  other 
things.  Why  then  should  government  be  singled  out  as  the 
only  product  of  intelligence  that  furnishes  illustrations  of  the 
failure  of  all  attempts  to  counteract  the  law  of  evolution  }  Civil- 
ization consists  of  something  else  besides  government.  That 
institution  has  indeed  played  an  important  role,  but  this  has 
been  thus  far  chiefly  that  of  enabling  the  more  direct  civilizing 
influences  to  operate.  Its  function  has  been  principally  that 
of  protection,  that  of  affording  security  to  other  normal  pro- 
cesses. It  has  done  this  with  a  certain  degree  of  efficiency,  a 
very  variable  and  imperfect  degree,  it  is  allowed,  but  it  has 
done  it.  Few  will  probably  insist  that  it  has  wholly  failed,  and 
nearly  all  believe  that  without  it  there  could  have  been  very 
little  or  no  social  progress.  Let  any  one  reflect  how  jealously 
vested  rights  are  guarded  by  law,  how  commerce  and  industry 
are  permitted  to  go  on  unmolested,  how  personal  liberty  is 
guaranteed  and  crimes  against  person  and  property  are  pun- 
ished, and  figure  to  himself  what  the  state  of  things  would  be 
in  the  total  absence  of  governmental  supervision.  The  quasi 
reign  of  terror  so  familiar  to  those  who  have  ever  sought  to 
live  a  little  out  on  the  borders  of  civilization  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  law  will  help  to  complete  this  latter  picture. ^ 

1  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  who  certainly  will  not  be  suspected  of  any  partiality  to 
government,  bears  witness  to  the  truth  here  stated  in  the  following  language  :  — 

"  Defective  as  is  the  administration  of  law,  yet  men's  properties  as  well  as  their 
lives  are  far  safer  than  they  were  in  early  times  ;  by  which  there  is  implied  an 
increase  of  those  feelings  which  embody  themselves  in  equitable  laws.  If  we 
again  look  at  the  growth  of  govermental  forms,  which  have  gone  on  from  period 
to  period  decreasing  the  unchecked  powers  of  ruling  classes,  and  extending  to 
lower  and  lower  grades  shares  of  political  power,  we  see  both  that  the  institu- 
tions so  established  are  more  altruistic  in  the  sense  that  they  recognize  better  the 
claims  of  all,  and  in  the  sense  that  they  are  advocated  and  carried  on  grounds  of 
equity  and  by  appeal  to  men's  sense  of  justice  —  that  is,  to  the  most  abstract 
and  latest  developed  of  the  altruistic  sentiments."  Principles  of  Ethics,  Vol.  I, 
p.  294. 


286  Social  Synf/icsis  of  tJic  Factors. 

If  the  organization  and  improvement  of  government  and  of  all 
other  human  institutions  as  well  as  the  operation  of  the  various 
civilizing  agencies  of  mankind  are  normal  products  of  evolution, 
and  have  taken  place  under  the  operation  of  natural  laws,  made 
possible  only  through  the  existence  of  the  intellectual  faculty 
of  man,  as  all  will  probably  admit,  what  is  there  in  the  world 
that  can  be  called  artificial  ?  Or  if  any  part  of  all  this  is 
entitled  to  be  so  called  why  is  it  not  all  so  entitled  ?  We  are 
told  to  let  things  alone  and  allow  nature  to  take  its  course. 
But  has  intelligent  man  e\-er  done  this?  Is  not  civilization 
itself  with  all  that  it  has  accomplished  the  result  of  man's  not 
letting  things  alone,  and  of  his  not  letting  nature  take  its 
course?  If  not,  then,  even  the  foolish  attempts  of  modern 
social  reformers  to  make  impossible  changes  in  the  assumed 
unimprovable  condition  of  existing  government  and  society  are 
the  legitimate  effect  of  natural  laws,  and  those  who  inveigh 
against  them  are  indulging  in  bntta  fithniiia.  They,  too,  are 
of  course  products  of  natural  law,  but  tlie  injunction  laisscz 
fairc  can  be  as  legitimately  served  on  them  as  on  those  on 
whom  they  would  have  it  served. 

The  simple  truth  is  that  everything  that  is  done  at  the 
behest  of  the  intellectual  faculty  is  per  se  and  of  necessity 
purely  artificial  in  the  only  sense  that  the  word  has.  The 
whole  difference  between  civilization  and  other  forms  of  natural 
progress  is  that  it  is  a  product  of  art.  As  was  shown  in  Chap- 
ters XXVII  to  XXIX,  art  is  the  natural  product  of  the 
inventive  faculty  which  is  only  a  form  of  intuitive  perception 
or  intuitive  reason,  and  belongs  to  the  main  trunk  of  the  intel- 
lect. It  is  the  i)rime  and  initial  factor  in  everything  distinc- 
tively human,  everything  truly  progressive,  the  sole  cause  of 
all  social  progress  and  of  civilization  itself.  The  artificial  is 
infinitely  superior  to  the  natural,  and  civilized  man  is  sati.sfied 
\vith  nothing  tliat  has  not  been  wrought  and  finished  by  the 
skill  and  handiwork  of  the  artisan  or  the  artist.  The  constant 
tendency   is    to    render   everything   more  and   more   artificial, 


Meliorism.  287 

which  means  more  and  more  perfect.  Human  institutions  are 
not  exempt  from  this  all-pervading  spirit  of  improvement. 
They,  too,  are  artificial,  conceived  in  the  ingenious  brain  and 
wrought  with  mental  skill  born  of  inventive  genius.  The  pas- 
sion for  their  improvement  is  of  a  piece  with  the  impulse  to 
improve  the  plow  or  the  steam  engine.  Government  is  one  of 
these  artificial  products  of  man's  devising,  and  his  right  to 
change  it  is  the  same  as  his  right  to  create  it.  That  he  has 
greatly  improved  it  there  is  no  doubt  ;  that  he  will  still  further 
perfect  it  there  is  every  promise. 

The  words  civilization  and  social  progress  are  not  strictly 
synonymous.  There  may  be  a  high  state  of  civilization  which 
produces  little  or  no  true  progress.  So  loose  a  term  as  prog- 
ress requires  rigid  definition.  As  the  only  final  end  of  human 
effort  is  human  happiness,  so  there  can  be  no  true  progress 
except  toward  that  end.  Progress  is  therefore  increase  of 
human  happiness,  or,  negatively  considered,  reduction  of  human 
suffering.  Civilization  does  not  essentially  consist  in  securing 
this  end.  If  it  does  so  this  is  only  an  incidental  effect.  That 
upon  the  whole  it  does  secure  it  there  can  be  no  doubt,  but 
there  may  be  and  doubtless  are  instances  in  which  this  is  not 
the  case.  Civilization  is  the  product  of  many  men  at  work 
with  their  inventive  brains,  each  seeking  to  compel  the  forces 
of  nature  to  do  something  for  himself.  But  the  number  who 
really  contribute  to  it  is  exceedingly  small  compared  with  the 
aggregate  of  population,  and  although  what  one  man  wants  is 
usually  also  that  which  many  others  want,  still  this  individual- 
ism necessarily  results  in  a  very  unequal  distribution  of  the 
product.  There  are  those  who,  admitting  this  inequality, 
maintain  that  an  equal  distribution  would  be  unjust  in  not 
rewarding  intelligence  and  industry.  This  should  be  readily 
conceded.  But,  as  was  shown  in  Chap.  XXVIII,  it  rarely 
happens  that  the  discoverer  of  a  fertile  principle  secures  a  just 
share  of  its  returns.  This  goes  not  to  genius  but  to  the  com- 
paratively   low    quality    of    cunning    or    business    shrewdness. 


288  Social  Syn//iesis  of  tJic  Factors. 

Almost  any  other  distribution  would  be  more  just  than  the 
actual  one.  Moreover,  it  would  be  unjust  were  the  inventor 
to  secure  all  the  returns.  He  would  soon  have  many  thousand 
times  as  much  as  he  could  make  any  good  use  of.  And  so  in 
whatever  way  we  look  at  the  subject  it  presents  a  problem. 
This  problem  fully  generalized  is  that  of  identifying  civilization 
with  progress,  of  making  society  at  large  the  beneficiary  of  the 
products  of  art,  skill,  industry,  and  labor.  It  is  clear  that  in 
order  to  solve  this  problem,  material  civilization  cannot  be 
wholly  left  to  individual  preferences.  Aside  from  the  unequal 
and  inequitable  distribution  of  the  products  of  industry  and 
thought  there  will  always  be  immense  waste.  The  individual 
will  never  make  social  progress  an  end  of  his  action.  He  will 
always  pursue  a  narrow  destructive  policy,  exhausting  prema- 
turely the  resources  of  the  earth,  caring  neither  for  the  good 
of  others  now  living  nor  for  posterity,  but  sweeping  into  the 
vortex  of  his  own  avarice  all  that  he  can  obtain  irrespective  of 
his  real  needs.  If  this  is  ever  to  be  prevented  it  must  be  by 
society  putting  itself  in  the  place  of  the  individual  and  seeking 
its  interests  as  the  individual  seeks  his,  and  caring  for  the 
welfare  and  comfort  of  all  its  members  as  the  individual  cares 
for  the  health  and  soundness  of  all  the  organs  of  his  body. 

The  chief  defects  of  the  social  system  as  it  is  now,  and  always 
has  been  constituted,  are  due  to  social  friction  as  defined  in 
Chap.  XVII.  The  problem  is  therefore  reduced  to  that  of 
lessening  social  friction.  Social  friction  is  mainly  the  result 
of  the  biologic  law  of  natural  selection  and  the  struggle  for 
existence,  which  in  economic  parlance  is  called  competition. 
This  is  pursued  by  man  under  the  powerful  influence  of  the 
intuitive  reason  taking  the  xarious  forms  described  in  Chapters 
XXIII  and  XXIV.  The  biological  sociologists,  seeing  the 
identity  of  this  with  what  goes  on  in  the  animal  world,  suppose 
it  must  be  a  healthy  state  of  things,  and  the  best  state  possible. 
They  imagine  that  it  results  in  real  social  progress.  They  of 
course  forget  that,  as  shown  in  the  last  chapter,  with  the  advent 


Meliorism.  289 

of  the  intellectual  faculty  an  entirely  new  dispensation  was 
inaugurated,  that  the  old  and  slow  biologic  method  of  organic 
or  structural  development  was  superseded  by  the  new  and  rapid 
anthropic  method  of  transforming  the  environment  and  adapting 
it  to  man,  so  that  this  holding  over  of  the  principle  of  animal 
rapacity  becomes  an  anachronism,  loses  all  its  former  develop- 
mental value,  and  stands  as  the  one  great  obstacle  in  the  path 
of  human  progress.  Much  has  been  done  even  by  individual 
effort  to  break  it  down.  The  social  state  of  mutual  dependence 
and  cooperation  was  a  heavy  blow  against  it.  The  division  of 
labor  in  art  and  industry,  by  which  every  one  is  working  for 
every  one  else,  has  further  hedged  it  about.  The  spread  of 
intelligence  through  the  diffusion  of  education  and  knowledge 
has  served  to  hold  it  up  to  general  reprobation.  Commerce, 
travel,  and  the  intercourse  of  people  with  people  and  race  with 
race  have  liberalized  thought  and  tended  to  make  it  unpopular. 
The  growth  of  sympathy  with  the  growth  of  intelligence  has 
proved  a  powerful  antagonist  to  its  advance,  and  the  influence 
of  eleemosynary  efforts  in  softening  its  worst  effects  cannot  be 
ignored.  But  still  it  lives,  and  it  is  probably  beyond  the  power 
of  all  these  influences  wholly  to  dislodge  it.  If  it  is  ever 
completely  overthrown  it  will  be  by  a  conscious  social  effort 
wisely  directed  to  the  removal  of  all  inducements  to  the  indul- 
gence of  selfish  greed.  Schemes  with  this  end  in  view  have 
been  proposed,  upon  the  wisdom  or  success  of  which  it  would 
be  needless  to  enlarge  here.  It  is  only  essential  to  deny  the 
antecedent  impossibility  of  one  day  freeing  society  of  this  the 
worst  enemy  of  its  peace  and  progress. 

It  will  be  said  that  this  presupposes  a  change  in  human 
nature.  The  answer  is  that  the  intuitive  reason  does  not 
crave  the  injury  of  others.  If  its  egoistic  ends  can  be 
attained  without  this  it  will  not  be  resorted  to.  The  only 
essential  difference  between  it  and  the  inventive  intuition 
is  that  the  latter  is  directed  upon  non-sentient  things  and 
loses    its    moral,   or    rather    immoral    quality.      The    principle 


290  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

by  which  a  physical  force  is  directed  into  a  channel  of  human 
advantage  does  not  differ  in  any  respect  from  that  by 
which  an  animal  is  decoyed  into  a  snare,  or  a  human  victim 
fleeced  by  a  confidence  man.  The  subject  cares  only  for  the 
end  —  his  personal  advantage.  He  ignores  the  means  and  its 
consequences  to  others.  The  inventor  is  a  deceiver  as  well  as 
the  sharper,  only  what  he  deceives  has  no  feelings  to  injure. 
The  application  of  all  this  is  that  if  all  inducement  to  satisfy 
self  at  the  expense  of  another  can  be  removed,  the  principle  of 
rapacity  will  have  lost  its  sting.  Its  immoral  quality  will  be 
gone.  It  may  then  exert  itself  as  powerfully  as  ever  and  be 
doing  no  harm,  nay,  it  may  be  made  aii  agent  of  good.  There 
is  then  no  antecedent  impossibility  in  the  removal  of  the  prin- 
cipal cause  of  social  friction,  and  it  becomes  simply  a  question 
of  its  practical  possibility.  Let  the  light  of  intelligence,  and 
especially  of  inventive  genius,  fully-  in  upon  it  as  a  great  and 
burning  question  for  solution  and  there  can  be  no  predicting 
what  the  result  may  be. 

These  problems  have  nothing  to  do  with  ethics.  They  are 
not  moral  questions,  although  upon  their  solution  more  than 
upon  anything  else  depends  the  moral  progress  of  the  world. 
They  are  purely  social  problems  and  can  only  be  properly  con- 
sidered in  the  dry  light  of  science.  The  proper  name  for  this 
science  is  vicliorisin,  the  science  of  the  improvement  or  ame- 
lioration of  the  human  or  social  state. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

SOCIAL   CONSCIOUSNESS. 

Intellectually  considered,  social  differentiation  has  always  been  far  in 
advance  of  social  integration.  As  in  the  solar  system,  the  outlying  mem- 
bers—  the  planets  —  have  vastly  exceeded  the  central  mass  —  the  sun  —  in 
the  progress  which  they  have  made  toward  the  dissipation  of  their  inherent 
motion  and  the  integration  of  their  constituent  matter,  so,  in  society,  while 
individual  men  have,  at  different  times  and  in  varying  degrees,  arrived  at 
full  consciousness  both  of  themselves  and  of  the  universe,  the  social  mass, 
the  supreme  psychic  center  of  the  social  organism,  still  consists  of  a  chaos 
of  undifferentiated  elements  in  the  crude,  homogeneous  state.  So  great  is 
this  lack  of  integration  in  the  social  consciousness  that  society  as  a  whole  is 
still  broken  up  into  a  large  number  of  more  or  less  remote  and  independent 
sub-societies,  joined  together  more  or  less  feebly  by  ties  which  differ  in 
strength,  from  those  of  language  and  national  characteristics  in  politically 
dependent  states,  to  those  of  commerce,  more  or  less  irreg'ular,  between  wide- 
separated  peoples  speaking  in  different  tongues.  —  Dynamic  Sociology^ 
11,397- 

Society,  possessed  for  the  first  time  of  a  completely  integrated  conscious- 
ness, could  at  last  proceed  to  map  out  a  field  of  independent  operation  for 
the  systematic  realization  of  its  own  interests,  in  the  same  manner  that  an 
intelligent  and  keen-sighted  individual  pursues  his  life-purposes.  —  Dyiiaviic 
Sociology,  II,  249. 

A  time  arrives  in  the  progress  of  social  development  when  societies  of 
men  become  conscious  of  a  corporate  existence,  and  when  the  improvement 
of  the  conditions  of  this  existence  becomes  for  them  an  object  of  conscious 
and  deliberate  effort.  At  what  particular  stage  in  human  history  this  new 
social  force  comes  into  play,  we  have  no  need  here  to  inquire.  What  I  am 
concerned  to  point  out  is  that  //  is  a  tiew  social  force,  wholly  different  in 
character  from  any  which  had  hitherto  helped  to  shape  human  destiny  — 
wholly  different  also  from  those  influences  which  have  guided  the  unfolding 
either  of  the  individual  animal  or  of  the  species.  We  cannot,  by  taking 
thought,  add  a  cubit  to  our  stature.  The  species,  in  undergoing  the 
process  of  improvement,  is  wholly  unconscious  of  the  influences  that  are 
determining    its    career.       It  is   not   so   with   human    evolution.     Civilized 


292  Social  SyutJicsis  of  tJic  Factors. 

mankind  are  aware  of  the  changes  taking  place  in  their  social  condition,  and 
do  consciously  and  deliberately  take  measures  for  its  improvernent.  —  Prof. 
J.  E.   Catrnes  :  Fortnightly  Review,  Vol.  XXIII,  January,  1875,  p.  71 

But  I  pass  these  by  with  bare  mention  to  fix  attention  on  only  one,  viz., 
the  modern  social  doctrine  of  human  p7-ogress.  Observe,  however,  I  mean 
not  mere  natural  evolution,  or  unconscious  progress  according  to  necessary 
law,  but  cofiscious  voluntary  progress  according  to  a  free  law,  a  conscious 
striving  after  a  higher  goal,  for  the  individual  and  for  the  race.  —  Joseph 
Le   Conte  :  Relation  of  Biology  to  Sociology,  p.  7. 

If  the  resemblance  between  the  body  physiological  and  the  body  politic 
is  any  indication,  not  only  of  what  the  latter  is.  and  how  it  Jias  become 
what  it  is,  but  of  what  it  ought  to  be,  and  what  it  is  tending  to  become,  I 
cannot  but  think  that  the  real  force  of  the  analogy  is  totally  opposed  to  the 
negative  view  of  State  function.  Suppose  that,  in  accordance  with  this 
view,  each  muscle  were  to  maintain  that  the  nervous  system  had  no  right  to 
interfere  with  its  contraction,  except  to  prevent  it  from  hindering  the  con- 
traction of  another  muscle  ;  or  each  gland,  that  it  had  a  right  to  secrete,  so 
long  as  its  secretion  interfered  with  no  other  ;  suppose  every  separate  cell, 
left  free  to  follow  its  own  "interests,"  and  laissez  faire,  Lord  of  all,  what 
would  become  of  the  body  physiological  ? 

The  fact  is,  that  the  sovereign  power  of  the  body  thinks  for  the  physio- 
logical organism,  acts  for  it,  and  rules  the  individual  components  with  a  rod 
of  iron.  Even  the  blood  corpuscles  can't  hold  a  public  meeting  without 
being  accused  of  •'  congestion  "  —  and  the  brain,  like  other  despots  wdiom 
we  have  known,  calls  out  at  once  for  the  use  of  sharp  steel  against  them. 
.  .  .  Hence,  if  the  analogy  of  the  body  politic  with  the  body  physiological 
counts  for  anything,  it  seems  to  me  to  be  in  favor  of  a  much  larger  amount 
of  governmental  interference  than  exists  at  present,  or  than  I,  for  one,  at  all 
desire  to  see.  —  Prof.  T.  H.  Huxley  :  Administrative  Nihilisni. 

The  term  con.sciousness  has  been  used  in  three  different 
senses  :  first  as  applicable  to  all  feeling  whatever  ;  second,  as 
applicable  to  such  feelings  only  as  are  referred  to  the  brain 
and  become  known  to  the  integrated  organism  ;  and  third,  as 
applicable  only  to  feelings  that  are  sanctioned  by  the  intellect 
and  under  its  control.  This  last  sense  is  that  of  Schopenhauer 
and  Ilartmann,  difficult  precisely  to  define,  but  clearly  exem- 
plified by  the  case  of  the  will  as  that  function  is  understood  by 
them,  which  they  always  regard   as   unconscious.      Hartmann's 


Social  Consciousness.  293 

Philosophy  of  the  Unconscious  is  little  more  than  a  philosophy 
of  the  Will,  in  this  sense.  But  according  to  the  more  accurate 
definition  of  consciousness  accepted  by  physiologists  and  most 
philosophers  it  is  the  essential  part  of  feeling  or  sentiency 
itself,  to  the  extent  that  feeling  without  consciousness  would 
be  a  contradiction  of  terms.  But  as  animal  motion  implies 
feeling  it  is  necessary  to  assume  the  consciousness  of  the  lower 
ganglionic  centers,  although  the  ego  is  not  aware  of  it,  just  as 
we  ascribe  feeling  and  consciousness  to  animals  that  cannot 
tell  us  of  their  mental  states.  In  like  manner  we  must  extend 
the  term  consciousness  as  far  down  in  the  scale  of  being  as 
feeling  is  conceived  to  exist.  Whether  this  is  coextensive 
with  life  is  a  disputed  question,  no  feeling  being  commonly 
ascribed  to  plants.  Still  it  may  coexist  with  motility  in  the 
protoplasm  of  vegetable  cells,  and  may  be  a  property  of  all 
protoplasm.  But  as  the  purpose  of  feeling  is  the  protection 
of  such  organisms  as  are  not  otherwise  protected,  it  may  be 
that  it  arose  along  with  the  development  of  such  organisms. 
Schopenhauer  projected  the  will  much  farther,  and  made  it 
include  chemical  affinities  and  all  physical  forces.  But  having 
denied  consciousness  even  to  the  human  will  he  was  not 
obliged  to  search  for  the  point  where  it  finally  disappeared. 

The  principal  objection  that  has  been  offered  to  the  doctrine 
that  society  is  an  organism  is  that  it  possesses  no  organ  of 
consciousness.  But  as  the  whole  theory  is  merely  an  analogy 
it  would  not  perhaps  be  more  difficult  to  find  the  analogue  of 
the  brain  than  any  of  the  other  analogues  that  have  been  so 
carefully  searched  for.  If  we  look  into  the  constitution  of 
society  we  find  that  besides  the  discrete  units  called  individuals 
there  are  a  great  many  other  units  of  somewhat  higher  orders, 
each  consisting  of  groups  of  individuals.  These  are  of  very 
different  kinds,  formed  for  widely  unlike  purposes,  varying 
indefinitely  in  size,  constitution,  and  composition.  These 
groups  of  individuals  may  be  divided  into  two  general  classes, 
which  differ  fundamentally  from  each  other.      Those  belonging 


294  Social  Svii^/icsis  of  the  I^ac/ors. 

to  one  of  these  classes  are  variously  denominated  organizations,, 
societies,  corporations,  companies,  associations,  sects,  churches, 
etc.,  etc.  All  such  groups  are  further  seen  to  agree  in  one 
particular,  however  much  they  may  differ  in  all  others.  None 
of  them  embraces  all  the  indixiduals  within  any  given  territorial 
area.  Many  of  them  arc  not  restricted  to  any  one  area  or 
country.  They  may  have  members  in  various  parts  of  the 
country  in  which  they  usually  meet,  and  some  in  other  countries, 
or  they  may  be  "  international."  Again,  even  when  they  are 
"  local,"  e.  g.,  have  no  members  outside  of  some  particular 
city,  they  never,  any  more  than  the  more  general  ones,  include 
all  the  inhabitants  of  that  city.  Many  of  the  members  of  one 
such  society  or  association  are  at  the  same  time  members  of 
one  or  more  of  the  others,  and  membership  and  allegiance  thus- 
crosses,  and  may  even  conflict  and  interfere.  The  various 
groups  of  this  general  class  may  be  collectively  called  partial 
or  ijicouiplctc  social  aggregates. 

The  other  of  these  two  general  classes  of  social  aggregates 
or  units,  may,  for  the  sake  of  distinction  be  called,  universal  or 
complete.  The  difference  consists  in  the  fact  that  these  latter 
always  include  all  the  inhabitants  of  some  definite  territorial 
area.  Moreover,  if  two  such  organizations  are  coordinate  they 
cannot  both  occupy  any  part  of  that  area,  and  no  one  individual 
can  be  a  member  of  any  two  such  associations.  But  a  number 
of  subordinate  organizations  of  this  class  may  be  under  one 
superior  one,  the  territory  of  which  is  then  coextensive  with 
that  of  all  the  subordinate  ones  that  fall  within  it,  and  all  the 
members  of  the  subordinate  organizations  are  also  members  of 
the  superior  one.  All  tlie  members  of  all  partial  or  incomplete 
organizations  are  also  members  of  one,  and  only  one,  uni- 
versal or  complete  organization,  and  in  addition  to  these 
also  all  individuals  who  are  not  members  of  any  partial  organi- 
zation. 

All  organizations,  whether  partial  or  universal,  have  some 
rules  governing  their  members,  those  of  the  former  class  being 


Social  Conscioiisucss.  295 

formed  for  a  great  variety  of  more  or  less  limited  and  definite 
objects.  All  organizations  of  the  latter  class,  however,  are 
formed  for  a  single  purpose  or  group  of  purposes,  so  that  while 
partial  associations  are  extremely  heterogeneous  in  their  aims, 
universal  associations  are  absolutely  homogeneous  in  this  respect 
throughout  the  world.  This  single  purpose  or  group  of  pur- 
poses whicli  constitutes  the  sole  function  of  all  universal  organi- 
zations is  tJic  general  good  of  its  nicvtbcrs.  Partial  associations 
are  also  often  formed  for  the  good  of  their  members,  but  it  is 
always  some  special  good,  usually  some  one  restricted  object  ; 
they  may,  however,  be  formed  for  purposes  quite  apart  from  the 
interests  of  the  members,  as  in  the  case  of  benevolent  asso- 
ciations which  seek  only  the  good  of  others  who  are  not 
members. 

Another  peculiarity  of  universal  organizations  is  that  the 
rules  governing  their  members  are  not  only  much  more  severe 
and  rigid  but  are  capable  of  being  enforced.  This  is  only  to  a 
limited  extent  the  case  with  partial  organizations.  The  church 
formerly,  and  the  catholic  church  still,  inflicts  penalties,  but  the 
penalties  of  other  churches  at  the  present  day  are  feeble,  and, 
to  outsiders,  ludicrous.  But  the  complete  organization  of  any 
territorial  area  has  full  power  over  its  members,  even  to  the 
taking  of  their  lives  where  their  crimes  justify  this  according  to 
their  rules  of  government. 

The  reader  has  not  failed  to  perceive  that  by  universal  or 
complete  organizations  in  the  above  paragraphs  the  existing 
governments  of  the  world  have  been  described,  and  I  have  often 
thought  that  if  we  could  only  get  rid  altogether  of  the  word 
government,  except  in  the  sense  of  a  body  of  rules,  better 
results  might  be  reached  in  attempting  to  discuss  social 
questions.  It  is  useless  to  inquire  how  government  originated, 
or  by  what  right  it  operates.  Unless  we  propose  to  play  the 
part  of  avowed  anarchists  and  wage  a  general  crusade  against 
it,  it  is  as  well  to  accept  what  actually  exists  and  make  the  best 
of  it.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  in  nearly  every  part  of  the  world 


296  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

society  is  under  some  form  of  organization  which  embraces  all 
its  members  and  exercises  plenary  powers  over  them,  ostensibly 
at  least  for  their  own  good. 

Some  might  object  that  the  only  real  members  of  a  govern- 
mental organization  are  the  officers  of  the  government.  Such 
is  the  position  taken  by  the  school  of  uiisarcJiists  who  are 
habitually  denouncing  government  as  a  mere  band  of  politicians 
who  at  any  time  happen  to  hold  office.  They  would  probably 
deny  that  they  v/crc  themselves  members  of  the  government 
of  the  country  in  which  they  live.  But  they  are  certainly 
members  of  the  society  which  constitutes  the  nation  which  is 
under  that  government.  Moreover,  certainly  in  representative 
countries,  those  who  vote  or  may  vote  must  be  regarded  as 
forming  part  of  the  government  which  their  votes  create.  But 
it  would  seem  a  strange  place  to  draw  the  line,  viz.,  so  as  to 
make  the  officers  and  voters  constitute  the  government  and  to 
exclude  all  others.  Many  who  are  not  voters  contribute  to  the 
support  of  the  government.  Why  should  not  these  be  included.'* 
But  if  the  government  consist  of  officers,  voters,  and  tax-payers, 
this  will  include  a  very  large  proportion  of  the  people.  More- 
over, it  is  sometimes  very  difficult  to  tell  just  what  constitutes  a 
tax-payer.  The  mere  names  under  which  property  is  assessed 
come  very  far  from  revealing  this.  But  if  an  attempt  is  made  to 
find  the  real  tax-payers,  not  only  is  it  impossible  to  stop  short 
of  including  all  property  owners,  but  it  is  equally  impossible  not  to 
include  all  consumers.  For  are  not  half  the  national  revenues 
raised  on  imports  which  those  who  possess  no  property  must 
consume  and  thus  pay  taxes  .-*  And  the  same  holds  for  internal 
revenues,  so  called.  Besides  these  there  arc  various  other  ways 
in  which  every  member  of  society  contributes  to  the  support  of 
the  government  under  which  he  lives.  Then,  there  are  other 
ways  besides  voting  and  holding  office  in  which  individuals  take 
part  in  government.  Indeed,  everyone  who  exerts  any  influence 
in  political  affairs  may  be  said  to  take  part  in  government,  and 
it  is  well  known  that  many  women  who  cannot  themselves  vote 


Social  Consciousness,  297 

determine  the  votes  of  others.  This  fact  has  even  been  iir<ied 
as  a  reason  for  not  extending  suffrage  to  women,  as  it  is  said 
that  their  influence  is  stronger  without  it  than  it  would  be 
with  it.  I  do  not  mean  to  endorse  this  statement.  I  only 
mention  it  to  show  how  clearly  the  influence  in  governmental 
affairs  of  those  who  neither  vote  nor  hold  office  is  popularly 
recognized. 

It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  there  is  no  line  that  can 
be  drawn  which  will  satisfactorily  exclude  any  person  from 
membership  in  a  government  organization,  and  a  government 
may,  therefore,  be  regarded  as  consisting  of  all  the  individuals 
within  its  jurisdiction.  If  any  one,  however,  objects  to  this  use 
of  the  word  government,  there  is  no  reason  why  the  word  nation 
or  state  may  not  be  substituted.  The  name  is  not  essential, 
only  the  fact  that  there  exist  such  universally  inclusive  organiza- 
tions as  have  been  described. 

The  question  to  which  all  this  is  preliminary  is  :  Why  may 
not  this  universal  or  complete  organization  of  any  given 
country  be  taken  as  the  analogue  of  the  organ  of  conscious- 
ness in  the  animal,  and  thus  complete  the  analogy  of  the  social 
to  the  animal  organism  }  By  consciousness,  as  here  used,  is 
meant  both  the  feeling  and  knowing  faculties  as  attributes  of 
the  nervous  system  including  the  brain.  The  analogy  is  then 
made  complete  by  looking  upon  the  brain  of  developed  animals 
as  represented  in  society  by  the  complete  independent  national 
autonomy,  as,  e.  g.,  in  this  country,  the  federal  government  ; 
and  the  hierarchy  of  subordinate  ganglionic  centers  by  the 
corresponding  subordinate  governments,  such  as  state,  county, 
municipal,  etc.,  each  of  which  latter  has  functions  to  perform 
which  are  not  sufficiently  important  to  be  referred  to  the 
supreme  central  authority,  the  same  as  in  any  animal  organism. 
From  this  point  of  view  the  independent  political  autonomies 
or  nations  of  the  world  constitute  each  a  social  ego,  while  the 
subordinate  governments  are  the  several  ganglionic  centres  of 
society  that  regulate  its  minor  activities. 


29S  Social  Syii/Iifsis  of  the  Facloi's. 

Symmetrical  as  this  scheme  appears  to  be,  it  would  not  be 
worth  proposing  if  it  did  not  hel}-)  in  understanding  the  real 
character  of  society.  Does  it  do  this  ?  Perhaps  as  good  a 
definition  as  can  be  given  of  consciousness  would  be  :  a  kjioivl- 
cdgc  of  a  fccli7ig.  If  the  individuals  composing  the  social 
organism  be  compared  to  \^\q  parts  of  an  animal  organism  (which 
may  be  restricted  to  those  parts  that  are  supplied  with  sensory 
nerves)  both  are  alike  composed  of  a  great  number  of  sensitive 
points  or  loci  of  feeling.  In  the  animal  it  is  the  reports  from 
these  various  h)ci  of  feeling,  both  external  and  internal,  that 
determine  and  regulate  its  action,  insure  its  nourishment,  and 
preserve  it  from  danger.  This  only  applies  to  individuals.  It 
does  not  extend  to  the  species  or  any  higher  groups.  It  is, 
therefore,  only  possible  to  compare  any  one  fully  integrated  and 
independent  political  autonomy  with  an  individual  organism. 
The  feelings  of  individual  men  are  cognized  by  the  national  con- 
sciousness in  much  the  same  way  that  the  feelings  of  the  parts 
of  the  animal  organism  are  cognized  by  the  animal  conscious- 
ness. The  chief  point  of  resemblance  is  the  purpose  for  which 
it  takes  place.  In  the  animal  it  is  always  for  its  good  that 
consciousness  works,  and  we  have  seen  that  the  sole  purpose 
for  which  government  exists  is  the  good  of  individuals.  There 
are  other  agencies,  such  as  newspapers,  popular  rumor,  etc., 
that  acquaint  individuals  of  the  feelings  of  other  individuals, 
but  these  are  purposeless  sources  of  knowledge.  The  reports 
that  are  registered  in  the  seat  of  political  consciousness  are  so 
referred  only  in  order  that  some  action  may  be  taken  for  the 
good  of  those  experiencing  the  feelings  reported.  This  is 
closely  analogous  to  the  sensoiy  and  consequent  motor  action 
of  the  nervous  system  under  like  circumstances.  In  the  animal 
the  feelings  are  all  of  the  conative  class  and  result  in  desires 
to  satisfy,  and  the  motor  discharges  tend  to  contract  those 
muscles  which  are  intended  to  satisf\-  those  desires.  In  society 
the  feelings  belong  to  the  same  class  and  the  responsive  action 
of  government  is  always  in  the  same  direction.      Some  want  is 


Social  Consciousness.  299 

to  be  supplied,  some  right  enforced,  some  evil  remedied.  Gov- 
ernment, therefore,  whether  in  its  legislative,  executive,  or 
judicial  function,  in  so  far  as  it  acts  at  all,  is  the  servant  of  the 
will  of  its  members  in  the  same  way  that  the  brain  is  the  ser- 
vant of  the  animal  will.  In  the  next  two  chapters  the  analogy 
will  be  pushed  a  step  further,  but  it  will  suffice  here  to  remark 
that  it  is  only  in  its  psychological  aspects  that  it  is  properly 
applicable.  Just  as  the  biological  theory  of  society  was  seen 
to  be  everywhere  unsound  from  ignoring  the  interjacent  science 
of  psychology,  so  the  organism  theory  of  society  holds  good 
even  analogically  only  in  so  far  as  the  comparison  is  confined 
to  its  psychic  aspects. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

THE    SOCIAL    WILL. 

Whatever  be  the  objects  of  government,  it  is  clear  that  it  can  have  no 
other  just  origin  than  the  will  (not  the  "  consent,"  which  is  merely  negative 
and  permissive,  but  the  positive,  declared  will)  of  society.  —  Dynamic  Soci- 
ology, II,  230. 

It  [the  executive  branch  of  government]  alone  knows  what  the  real  de- 
mands of  the  state  are.'  It  is  constantly  subjected  to  pressure  from  various 
quarters  arising  out  of  the  normal  operations  of  trade,  manufactures,  and 
industry  in  general.  These  pulsations  it  cannot  help  instantly  feeling,  and 
it  is  ever  stepping  to  the  verge  of  its  statutory  authority  to  meet  these 
demands.  —  Dynamic  Sociology,  II,  575. 

The  individual  will,  in  the  only  proper  and  intelligible  sense 
of  the  word,  is  the  conative  faculty  —  the  faculty  through 
which  a  being  strives  to  satisfy  its  desires.  It  is  the  means  by 
which  it  exists,  leading  to  the  supply  of  its  wants  and  the  safety 
of  its  life.  All  feelings,  internal  and  external,  that  reach  the 
seat  of  consciousness  react  as  motor  discharges  determining  the 
appropriate  actions.  In  society  the  wants  of  individuals  struggle 
to  reach  the  seat  of  social  consciousness,  the  organized  state, 
and  produce  like  reactions,  tending  to  their  relief.  In  highly 
developed  governments  this  analogy  is  very  clear,  and  a  degree 
of  responsiveness  is  attained  corresponding  somewhat  closely  to 
that  of  the  individual  will.  But  even  in  the  lower  and  cruder 
forms  there  is  some  degree  of  responsiveness.  Every  govern- 
ment, even  the  most  despotic,  is  to  a  certain  extent  representa- 
tive of  the  state  of  society  over  which  it  acts,  and  all  government 
is  much  more  nearly  the  best  that  can  exist  under  the  circum- 
stances than  is  generally  supposed.  For  example,  it  is  common 
to  regard  the  present  government  of  Russia  as  greatly  out  of 
harmony  with  the  people  of  that  empire,  but  this  is  probably 
a   mistake.      It   arises   from    two   causes.      First,   those   living 


The  Social  Will.  301 

under  a  more  liberal  government  are  apt  to  judge  other  societies 
by  their  own.  They  forget  that  the  very  reason  why  their 
government  is  so  much  more  liberal  is  because  their  society  is  so 
much  more  intelligent,  and  that  it  is  society  which  determines 
the  character  of  government.  The  second  mistake  in  this  case 
is  that  the  people  of  Russia  are  so  heterogeneous  in  this  respect. 
There  exists  there  a  large  intelligent  class  for  whom  the  govern- 
ment is  undoubtedly  ill-adapted,  and  who  necessarily  chafe 
under  it.  But  this  class  is  numerically  small  and  the  govern- 
ment does  not  well  represent  it.  It  represents  rather  the  great 
mass  for  whom  a  better  government  would  not  be  adapted. 
Government  must  always  adapt  itself  to  its  worst  class  and  even 
a  small  class  of  unintelligent  citizens  lowers  its  standard  out  of 
proportion  to  the  importance  of  that  class.  This  makes  the 
intelligent  class  appear  to  be  the  dangerous  and  turbulent  one, 
and  leads  some  to  regard  intelligence  as  a  curse  rather  than 
a  blessing.  The  greatest  of  all  desiderata  in  society  is  a 
degree  of  uniformity  of  intelligence,  or  intellectual  and  moral 
homogeneity. 

The  important  fact  to  be  noted  in  connection  with  the  mani- 
festations of  the  social  will  is  that  in  all  existing  governments 
they  are  so  frequently  abortive  or  unsuccessful.  Government 
is  perpetually  trying  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  individuals  and 
a  large  proportion  of  its  efforts  prove  to  be  failures.  In  the 
main  they  are  successful,  otherwise  society  itself  would  fail,  but 
the  successes  do  not  attract  attention,  while  the  failures  are 
seized  upon  as  proofs  of  the  entire  futility  of  all  governmental 
action.  Laws  are  enacted  which  do  not  accomplish  their  pur- 
pose, some  of  them  have  effects  which  are  the  opposite  of  those 
which  were  intended.  Numbers  of  them  have  to  be  repealed 
because  they  are  found  injurious,  etc.,  etc.  This  is  not  the 
place  to  answer  the  superficial  arguments  that  are  based  upon 
such  facts.  What  concerns  us  here  is  to  inquire  into  the  causes 
of  these  failures.  And  first,  it  is  nothing  more  than  what  takes 
place   in   the  acts  of  will  on  the  part  of  individuals.     When 


302  Social  Synthesis  of  tJic  Factors. 

undirected  b}'  intelligence  the  will  is  constantly  prompting  acts 
that  fail  to  secure  desired  ends,  acts  that  produce  effects  which 
are  the  opposite  of  those  intended,  and  acts  which  prove 
injurious  to  those  who  commit  them. 

It  is  obvious  that  in  both  cases  the  failures  are  chiefly  due  to 
what  is  commonly  called  ignorance.  But  it  is  a  special  kind 
of  ignorance,  viz.,  lack  of  acquaintance  with  the  principles 
involved.  In  individuals  it  is  often  ignorance  of  physical  laws, 
but  most  commonly  ignorance  of  human  nature.  By  this  is 
meant  the  motives  to  human  action.  Social  or  governmental 
failures  are  almost  exclusively  due  to  ignorance  of  social  laws. 
And  by  this  again  is  meant  the  principles  of  human  action  in 
collectivity.  In  other  words,  those  who  enact  unsuccessful  or 
obnoxious  laws  have  no  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  social  forces. 
As  a  rule  they  are  influenced  by  a  blind  zeal  to  secure  some 
perceived  end  and  it  is  the  nature  of  the  will  to  proceed  in  the 
most  direct  way  to  the  accomplishment  of  any  purpose.  The 
social  will  acts  like  the  individual  will,  directly  toward  the 
object  of  desire.  This  can  be  a  successful  method  only  in  the 
simplest  cases.  I  have  somewhat  fully  discussed  this  subject 
in  Chap.  VIII  of  Dynamic  Sociology  under  the  head  of  the 
"  Direct  Method  of  Conation  "  and  need  not,  therefore,  enter 
into  it  here.  It  need  only  be  pointed  out  that  for  all  govern- 
ments thus  far  this  has  been  the  prevailing  method,  or  if  the 
indirect  method  has  been  applied  it  has  been  with  such  a  feeble 
grasp  of  the  complex  laws  of  social  phenomena  as  to  amount  to 
nearly  the  same  thing.  Only  the  simpler  functions  of  govern- 
ment can  be  thus  successfully  carried  on,  and  these  have  been 
satisfactorily  performed.  All  attemjits  to  exceed  these  have 
met  with  varying  success,  and  it  has  required  man}'  failures  and 
renewed  trials  to  make  the  little  progress  that  has  actually 
taken  place  in  the  higher  duties  of  the  state. 

It  is,  therefore,  in  the  highest  degree  illogical  to  argue  that 
the  state  can  never  extend  its  powers.  It  is  the  organ  of  social 
consciousness  and   must   ever  seek  to  obey  the  will  of  society. 


The  Social  Will.  303 

Whatever  society  demands  it  must  and  always  will  endeavor  to 
supply.  If  it  fails  at  first  it  will  continue  to  try  until  success 
at  last  crowns  its  efforts.  If  it  is  ignorant  it  will  educate 
itself,  if  in  no  other  way  by  the  method  of  trial  and  error. 
Higher  and  higher  types  of  statesmanship  will  follow  the 
advancing  intelligence  of  mankind,  until  one  by  one  the  difficult 
social  problems  will  be  solved.  It  is  useless  to  maintain  that 
the  functions  of  government  are  necessarily  limited  to  the  few 
that  have  thus  far  been  undertaken.  The  only  limit  is  that  of 
the  good  of  society,  and  as  long  as  there  is  any  additional  way 
in  which  that  object  can  be  secured  through  governmental 
action  such  action  will  be  taken. 

It  seems  scarcely  worth  while  to  notice  the  exceedingly 
narrow  attitude  of  a  certain  class  of  persons  who  habitually 
speak  of  government  as  if  it  were  something  foreign  to  the 
people  and  hostile  to  the  true  interests  of  society.  If  there 
have  been  cases  in  which  the  ruling  class  wholly  mistook  their 
relations  to  society  and  seemed  for  brief  periods  and  in  certain 
countries  to  justify  such  a  view,  events  have  soon  taught  them 
better  ;  and  even  where  a  king  has  imagined  that  he  was  the 
state  he  was  at  that  moment  only  a  servant  of  the  social  will, 
refusal  to  obey  which  would  cost  him  and  his  descendants  their 
title  to  power  or  their  lives.  But  such  views  are  especially 
meaningless  in  modern  times  when  governments  have  become 
so  extremely  sensitive  to  the  social  will  that  a  single  adverse 
vote  will  overthrow  a  cabinet,  and  where  appeals  are  every  year 
taken  to  the  suffrage  of  the  people.  The  fact  is  that,  so  far 
from  any  modern  government  daring  to  inaugurate  any  scheme 
of  oppression,  they  are  all  so  intensely  deferent  to  the  public 
.will  that  every  new  step  is  tardily  taken  and  only  after  it  has 
become  certain  that  it  will  be  gladly  welcomed  and  generally 
approved.  This  country  is  to-day  fully  ripe  for  a  series  of 
important  national  reforms  which  cannot  be  made  because  a 
comparatively  small  number  of  influential  citizens  oppose  them. 
Conservatism,  fear  of  disapproval,  and  general  timidity  before 


304  Social  Syn/kcsis  of  the  Factors. 

the  people,  who  are  recognized  as  the  real  government,  charac- 
terize the  legislation  of  all  modern  nations.  In  order  to  the 
introduction  and  adoption  of  any  reform  measure  it  is  necessary 
that  the  public  will  shall  have  been  positively  and  emphatically 
made  known.  But  w^hen  this  is  done  in  an  unmistakable 
manner,  such  measures  are  often  pushed  through  with  much 
too  great  alacrity.  Government  is  becoming  more  and  more 
the  organ  of  social  consciousness,  and  more  and  more  the 
servant  of  the  social  will.  Our  declaration  of  independence 
which  recites  that  government  derives  its  just  powers  from  the 
"consent"  of  the  governed  has  already  been  outgrown.  It  is 
no  longer  the  consent  but  the  positively  known  will  of  the 
governed  from  which  government  now  derives  its  powers. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

THE    SOCIAL   INTELLECT. 

The  social  forces  only  need  to  be  investigated  as  tlie  rest  have  been,  in 
order  to  discover  ways  in  which  their  utility  can  be  demonstrated.  Here  is 
a  vast  field  of  true  scientific  exploitation  as  yet  untracked,  and  which  to  the 
legislators  of  this  age  is  not  known  to  exist.  ...  If  the  domain  of  social 
phenomena  is  as  completely  one  of  law  as  that  of  physical  phenomena  .  .  . 
then  may  we  logically  expect  the  same  measure  of  success,  in  proportion  as 
these  laws  are  known,  which  marks  the  progress  of  human  supremacy  in 
the  material  world.  —  Dynamic  Sociology^  I)  43- 

II  ne  faut  pas  que  Thomme  croie  qu"il  est  egal  aux  betes,  ni  qu'il  croie 
qu'il  est  dgal  aux  anges,  ni  qu'il  ignore  I'un  et  I'autre  ;  mais  qu'il  sache  I'un 
et  I'autre.  —  Pascal  ;  Pensies^  II,  85. 

The  important  truth,  set  forth  in  Part  I,  that  feehng  was 
developed  as  a  means  of  preserving  life  where  other  means 
were  wanting,  is  scarcely  more  momentous  than  the  other 
great  truth,  established  in  Part  II,  that  the  intellect  was 
developed  as  a  means  of  securing  ends  of  being  which  the 
unguided  will  could  not  secure.  The  several  forms  which  that 
faculty  assumed  in  the  performance  of  this  function  were 
described  and  their  success  and  progress  traced.  It  was  seen 
that  the  purely  biological  ends  of  being  were  successfully 
pursued  through  the  egoistic  forms  of  intellection,  but  that 
the  form  which  led  to  social  progress  and  civilization  was  the 
inventive  faculty  rising  into  inventive  genius  and  bringing  all 
the  material  and  dynamic  resources  of  nature  into  the  service 
of  man.  In  Chap.  XXVIII  the  precise  nature  of  this  faculty 
was  described,  and  the  secret  of  its  success  was  pointed  out. 

The  perpetual  failures  which  in  the  animal  world  attended 
direct  efforts  of  will  to  secure  the  higher  ends  of  being  and 
arrested  organic  development  until  the  intellectual  faculty  came 
into  existence  and  gave  it  such  a  new  and  astonishing  impetus, 


3o6  Social  Syjil/icsis  of  the  Factors. 

also  characterized  the  efforts  of  the  social  will  to  reach  forward 
to  better  things,  and  they  will  continue  to  characterize  them 
until  the  social  intellect  shall  be  developed  and  shall  begin  to 
orgcanize  the  forces  of  human  nature  and  enlist  them  in  the 
service  of  society. 

Considerable  progress  has  actually  been  made  in  this  direc- 
tion, but,  as  in  the  animal  w-orld,  it  w^as  the  egoistic  forms  that 
were  first  employed.  This  took  place  and  still  takes  place 
chiefly  in  the  relations  of  tribes  with  tribes  or  nations  with 
nations.  As  self-preservation  is  for  the  individual  the  first 
law  of  nature,  so  is  it  with  tribes  and  nations,  and  accordingly 
it  is  in  obedience  to  this  primary  law  that  the  most  intense 
efforts  of  collective  man  have  been  put  forth  to  make  the  dic- 
tates of  will  successful.  Here,  therefore,  the  intellectual  aux- 
iliary has  been  most  clearly  manifest.  The  two  principal 
directions  in  which  this  has  made  itself  felt  were  considered 
in  Chap.  XXIII,  viz.,  strategy  in  war  and  diplomacy  in  peace. 
To  these  may,  however,  be  added  retaliatory  laws,  discrimi- 
nating duties,  and  a  variety  of  other  efforts  to  checkmate  rival 
nations  and  insure  national  safety  and  industrial  prosperity. 
But  the  exercise  by  nations  of  the  inventive  faculty  even  in 
dealing  with  other  nations  has  been  rare.  It  is  still  rarer 
in  dealing  with  their  own  citizens.  It  is  here  that  the 
great  opportunity  is  open,  and  this  may  now  be  briefly  con- 
sidered. 

In  Dynamic  Sociology  the  principle  was  distinctly  formulated 
under  the  name  of  "attractive  legislation"  (see  the  several 
passages  referred  to  in  the  index  of  that  work)  and  a  few  illus- 
trations were  given  of  applications  that  have  actually  been 
made  of  it.  Probably  the  most  important  examples  are  those 
that  relate  to  subventions  of  various  kinds,  including  tariffs, 
bounties,  and  other  subsidies.  The  introduction  of  stamps 
in  the  collection  of  revenues,  whether  as  postage  or  excise, 
was  a  truly  ingenious  device  of  the  law-maker,  and  there  are 
many  others.      But  there  is  room  for  the  indefinite  extension 


The  Social  hitcllccf.  307 

of  the  principle.  There  is  no  doubt  that  it  will  one  day  be 
carried  into  nearly  every  department  of  legislation.  There  is 
nothing  that  would  go  so  far  to  remove  the  odium  that  seems 
to  attach  to  the  acts  of  government,  however  necessary.  Not 
only  might  all  revenues  probably  be  collected  in  a  way  that 
would  be  far  less  irritating  than  present  methods,  as  well  as  in 
ways  that  would  be  more  just,  but  nearly  every  other  function 
of  government  might,  if  statesmen  were  sufficiently  ingenious, 
be  performed  with  such  smoothness  and  ease  that  society 
would  scarcely  feel  the  weight  of  law  upon  it. 

The  principle  itself  is  absolutely  identical  with  that  of 
mechanical  invention,  the  only  difference  being  that  it  deals 
with  social  instead  of  physical  forces,  with  men  instead  of  with 
things.  The  ingenuity  which  has  been  displayed  in  dealing 
with  animals  by  which  wild  beasts  have  become  man's  most 
useful  servants  and  through  which  man  has  gained  the  com- 
plete mastery  over  the  lower  kingdoms  of  nature,  shows  that 
the  inventive  faculty  may  successfully  cope  with  vital  and 
psychic  forces.  It  only  requires  a  somewhat  higher  type  of  this 
same  quality  of  mind  to  tame  the  human  animal  and  make  him 
as  harmless  and  as  useful  to  society  as  domestic  animals  are  to 
man.  First  of  all  the  idea  must  be  got  rid  of  that  there  are 
any  essentially  evil  propensities.  Those  with  which  men  are 
endc^wed  have  been  developed  for  a  useful  purpose.  They  must 
be  recognized  as  natural  and  the  effort  made  to  direct  them 
into  useful  channels  just  as  the  elements  of  nature  —  fire,  wind, 
water,  electricity,  etc.  —  are  directed  by  mechanical  invention. 
Instead  of  the  brusque  command:  "Thou  shalt  not,"  there 
must  be  devised  such  measures  that  when  man  acts  according 
to  nature  his  act  will  be  at  least  harmless  ;  if  possible,  useful. 
Instead  of  waiting  till  the  natural  result  of  an  action  has 
wrought  injury  to  others  and  then  punishing  the  agent,  the 
desire  to  do  that  which  will  injure  others  might  in  most  cases, 
by  the  exercise  of  ingenuity  in  the  modification  of  his  environ- 
ment, be  completely  removed.     The  moralists  have  undertaken 


3o8  Social  Syji/Zicsis  of  the  Factors. 

the  impossible  task  of  removing  the  so-called  evil  propensities 
of  man.  Meliorism  teaches  that  there  are  no  such,  but  that 
the  evil  consequences  of  actions  dictated  by  natural  impulses 
may  be  rendered  impossible.  Desires  there  will  be,  for  so  is 
man  constituted,  but  these  seek  only  their  own  satisfaction. 
The  injury  of  others  is  only  incidental,  and  the  problem  is 
to  get  others  out   of  the  way. 

It  is  true  that  the  desires  of  men  can  be  changed  in  their 
nature.  The  same  individual  will  have  entirely  different  desires 
if  reared  under  one  environment  from  what  he  would  have  if 
reared  under  an  entirely  different  one.  And  this  constitutes 
the  overwhelming  argument  for  the  creation  of  a  proper  social 
environment.  The  desires  and  consequent  conduct  of  men 
depend  upon  their  ideas,  that  is,  their  opinions  and  beliefs, 
and  these  depend  in  turn  upon  their  education,  using  the  term 
in  its  broad  sense.  It  is,  therefore,  this  education  that  requires 
first  to  be  attended  to,  and,  as  I  have  shown  in  Dynamic 
Sociology,  the  highest  duty  of  society  is  to  see  to  it  that  every 
member  receives  a  sound  education.  This  should  not  be  like 
the  education  which  interested  individuals  furnish,  the  inculca- 
tion of  a  particular  set  of  beliefs  without  any  reasons  therefor, 
but  it  should  consist  exclusively  in  furnishing  the  largest 
possible  amount  of  the  most  important  knowledge,  letting  the 
beliefs  take  care  of  themselves.  This  alone  would  extract  the 
fangs  from  nearly  all  human  propensities  and  reduce  the 
problem  of  attractive  legi.slation  to  its  lowest  terms. 

But  should  this  great  initial  step  be  taken,  and  all  the 
practical  knowledge  of  the  world  be  given  to  every  member  of 
society  for  his  guidance,  there  would  still  remain,  especially 
during  the  transition  period  before  such  a  measure  could  bear 
its  full  fruit,  a  wide  field  for  the  exercise  of  the  collective 
ingenuity.  As  happiness  is  the  great  object  of  man  the 
problem  before  the  social  intellect  is  nothing  less  than  that  of 
the  organization  of  happiness.  The  existing  evils  of  society  are 
so  great  and  so  universal  that  the  first  steps  would  necessarily 


The  Social  Intellect.  309 

be  taken  rather  in  tlie  direction  of  mitigating  or  removing  these 
than  in  that  of  increasing  or  extending  the  positive  enjoyment 
of  life.  So  long  as  there  is  pain  to  be  relieved,  the  attempt  to 
heighten  pleasure  seems  a  sacrilege.  The  social  intellect 
should,  therefore,  first  and  foremost,  grapple  with  the  whole 
problem  of  reducing  the  social  friction.  Every  wheel  in  the 
entire  social  machinery  should  be  carefully  scrutinized  with  the 
practiced  eye  of  the  skilled  artisan,  with  a  view  to  discovering 
the  true  nature  of  the  friction  and  of  removing  all  that  is  not 
required  by  a  perfect  system. 

With  regard  to  the  method  by  which  all  this  may  be  made 
practicable  a  final  word  may  be  indulged  in.  Before  any  such 
sweeping  social  regeneration  as  that  which  is  here  hinted  at 
can  be  inaugurated  a  great  change  must  be  wrought  in  the 
whole  theory  of  legislation.  It  must  be  recognized  that  the 
legislator  is  essentially  an  inventor  and  a  scientific  discoverer. 
His  duty  is  to  be  thoroughly  versed  in  the  whole  theory  and 
practice  of  social  physics.  He  is  called  upon  to  devise  "  ways 
and  means"  for  securing  the  true  interests  and  improvement  of 
the  people  for  whom  he  is  to  legislate.  This  obviously  cannot 
be  done  by  existing  methods.  A  public  assembly  governed  by 
parliamentary  rules  is  as  inadequate  a  method  as  could  well  be 
conceived  of  for  anything  like  scientific  legislation.  Imagine 
all  the  inventors  in  the  country  assembled  in  a  hall  acting 
under  the  gavel  of  a  presiding  officer  to  devise  the  machines  of 
the  future  and  adopt  the  best  by  a  majority  vote  !  Or  think 
of  trying  to  advance  scientific  discovery  by  a  general  conven- 
tion !  Scientific  associations  there  are,  usually  for  the  reading 
of  papers  setting  forth  the  discoveries  made  by  the  members  in 
their  laboratories,  and  there  would  be  no  objection  to  this 
class  of  legislative  assemblies.  But  in  the  latter  case  as  in  the 
former,  the  real  work,  the  thought,  research,  observation, 
experimentation,  and  discovery  of  laws  and  principles  of  nature 
must  be  done  elsewhere,  under  appropriate  conditions,  in  the 
great  field  or  in  the  private  cabinet. 


3IO  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

It  may  at  first  glance  seem  absurd  to  propose  that  legislation 
be  done  in  any  such  way,  but  a  little  reflection  will  show  that 
it  is  not  only  not  absurd,  but  that  there  is  at  this  moment 
a  strong  tendency  in  all  enlightened  countries  toward  its 
adoption.  It  is  a  well  known  fact  that  at  the  present  time  the 
greater  part  of  the  real  legislation  is  done  by  committees.  The 
members  of  legislative  committees  are  carefully  chosen  with 
reference  to  their  known  fitness  for  the  different  subjects 
intrusted  to  them.  These  committees  really  dclibcT-ate.  They 
investigate  the  questions  before  them,  hear  testimony  and 
petitions,  and  weigh  evidence  for  and  against  every  proposed 
measure.  This  is  truly  scientific  and  leads  to  the  discovery  of 
the  principles  involved.  Unless  biased  by  partisan  leanings 
they  are  very  likely  to  reach  the  truth  and  report  practical  and 
useful  measures.  The  body  to  which  these  committees  belong 
respect  their  decisions  and  usually  adopt  their  recommenda- 
tions. The  other  members  usually  know  very  little  about  the 
merits  of  the  questions,  or  at  least,  not  having  studied  them, 
they  defer  to  the  superior  judgment  of  those  who  have.  Com- 
mittee work  is,  therefore,  the  nearest  approach  we  have  to 
the  scientific  investigation  of  social  questions.  It  is  on  the 
increase,  and  is  destined  to  play  an  ever  increasing  role  in 
national  legislation. 

There  is  one  other  important  way  in  which  the  social  intellect 
is  being  applied  to  human  affairs.  The  theory  is  that  the 
executive  branch  of  government  merely  administers  national 
affairs.  This  is  a  great  mistake.  A  very  large  part  of  the  real 
legislation  of  a  country  is  done  by  the  executive  branch.  The 
various  bureaus  of  government  are  in  position  to  feel  the 
popular  pulse  more  sensitively  than  the  legislature.  The 
officers  charged  with  their  administration  become  identified  with 
certain  industries  and  are  appealed  to  by  the  public  to  adopt 
needed  reforms.  After  stepping  to  the  verge  of  their  legal 
authority  in  response  to  such  demands,  whereby  much  real 
legislation  is  done  not  contemplated  by  those  who  framed  the 


T/ic  Social  Intellect.  3 1 1 

laws  under  which  these  bureaus  were  established,  they  finish  by 
making  recommendations  of  the  rest  to  the  law-making  power. 
This  latter  usually  recognizes  the  wisdom  of  such  recommenda- 
tions and  enacts  them  into  laws,  thus  ever  enlarging  the 
administrative  jurisdiction  of  government.  Such  legislation  is 
in  a  true  sense  scientific.  It  is  based  on  a  knowledge  both  of  the 
needs  of  the  public  and  of  the  best  means  of  supplying  them. 
It  has  been  subjected  to  thoughtful  consideration  and  mature 
judgment.  It  is  a  method  that  is  being  every  year  more  and  more 
employed,  and  its  results  are  usually  successful  and  permanent. 

History  furnishes  the  statesman  an  additional  basis  for 
legislation.  It  is  now  possible  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the 
industrial  history  of  nations,  not  complete,  it  is  true,  because 
so  much  was  lost  during  the  period  when  history  was  supposed 
to  relate  exclusively  to  the  operations  of  the  state  and  those 
who  stood  at  its  head,  but  sufficiently  full  to  serve  as  a  valuable 
guide  to  the  legislator.  No  man  should  consider  himself 
qualified  to  legislate  for  a  people  who  is  not  conversant  with  the 
history  of  modern  nations  at  least,  with  their  various  systems 
of  finance,  revenue,  taxation,  public  works,  education,  land  sur- 
veying, patent  and  copyright  law,  military  and  naval  equipment, 
general  jurisprudence  and  constitutional,  statute,  and  unwritten 
law.  It  will,  of  course,  be  said  that  very  few  legislators  are  thus 
informed,  and  this  is  true,  but  these  few  will  be  the  ones  who 
will  do  most  to  shape  the  action  of  the  state  and  will  furnish 
examples  to  all  who  aspire  to  play  a  leading  part  in  the  political 
drama. 

Again  there  is  the  statistical  method.  No  one  will  deny 
that  this  is  rapidly  becoming  a  leading  factor  in  legislation. 
Statistics  are  simply  the  facts  that  underlie  the  science  of 
government.  They  are  to  the  legislator  what  the  results  of 
observation  and  experiment  are  to  the  man  of  science.  They 
are  in  fact  the  inductions  of  political  science,  and  the  inductive 
method  in  that  science  is  of  the  same  value  that  it  is  to  science 
in  general,  its  only  true  foundation.  There  is  no  great  state 
at  this  day  that  does  not  make  an  effort  to  collect  statistics  ;  in 


312  Social  SvJil/icsis  of  the  Factoids. 

most  of  the  leading  nations  of  the  world  this  is  now  done  on  an 
extensive  scale.  A  census,  which  a  short  time  ago  was  merely 
an  enumeration  of  the  population  of  a  state,  now  means  an 
exhaustive  inquiry  into  its  entire  vital,  industrial,  and  com- 
mercial condition.  In  this  and  many  other  ways  governments 
furnish  to  their  legislators  the  most  important  facts  required  to 
guide  them  in  the  adoption  of  the  measures  needful  for  the 
prosperity  of  the  people. 

There  are  many  other  ways  in  which  the  tendency  toward 
scientific  legislation  is  steadily  growing,  and,  without  indulging 
in  any  undue  optimism  on  the  subject,  the  fact  may  be  con- 
sidered established  that  no  revolution  is  necessary  in  the  char- 
acter of  society  in  order  to  bring  about  the  gradual  transforma- 
tion required  to  realize  all  that  has  been  foreshadowed  in  this 
chapter.  The  machinery  already  exists  for  the  needed  reforma- 
tion and  all  that  is  necessary  is  that  it  be  under  the  control  of 
the  developed  social  intellect.  The  quality  of  statesmanship  is 
increasing.  More  thought  is  being  devoted  to  the  deeper  ques- 
tions of  state  and  of  society  than  ever  before,  and  the  signs  of 
healthy  progress  are  unmistakable.  A  modern  Solon,  para- 
phrasing the  oft-quoted  saying  ^  of  the  ancient  one,  has  defined 
a  statesman  as  "a  successful  politician  who  is  dead."  Me 
doubtless  intended  to  rebuke  the  tendency  of  every  age  ta 
vilify  public  men  while  they  are  living  and  canonize  them  after 
they  are  dead.  And  it  would  be  well  if,  not  only  those  wha 
stand  at  the  helm  of  the  ship  of  state  at  any  given  period,  but 
also  the  achievements  of  this  directive  social  intellect  in  guiding 
that  ship  into  smoother  waters,  were  looked  at  from  the  stand- 
point of  some  remote  future  date  and  estimated  in  the  light  of 
the  history  which  is  being  made. 

^  YA  5i  Trpbs  rovroiffi.  eri.  TeXevrrjcrei.  rbv  plov  eC,  ovtos  ^KeTvo^  rbv  cri)  fjjrfis  6X^10% 
KiKKrjddai.  d|i6s  ^crri  •  irplv  8'  &p  reXevT-qari,  iiri<Tx^en',  M^^  KoK^eiv  kw  SXjiiov  dW' 
evTVx^a.  —  Soi.ON  :  //fro^Mus,  I,  32,  p.  15. 

A670S  flip  i<TT   dpxa^o^  dvdpd^irwv  (paveU, 

ws  oiiK  &v  alwv   iKfiddois  ^porQu  irplv  Slv 

6dvOl  TIS,    OVT     fl  XP'?<'"''6s,    OVT     et    TU    KaKOS. 

SoriiuCLKS  :  Trachiiiiir,  I. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

SOCIOCRACY. 

To  distinguish  this  general  movement  in  the  direction  of  regulating  social 
phenomena  from  all  other  facts  in  human  history,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
avoid  all  objectionable  terms  and  express  the  conception  in  its  widest  sense, 
it  may  be  appropriately  denominated  Socioci'acv.  It  is  too  late  now  to 
object  to  this  new  term  on  the  ground  of  its  hybrid  Graeco-Latin  etymology, 
since  the  Greek  language  is  known  to  be  deficient  in  a  proper  root  for  its 
first  component,  and  several  kindred  terms  are  already  in  common  use  by 
the  best  authorities.  It  means  something  quite  distinct  from  Democracy, 
which  points,  as  tliis  term  does  not,  decisively  towards  a  definite  form  of 
organization.  The  term  Socialism,  too,  which  might  seem  akin  to  it,  aside 
from  its  unpopularity,  has  by  far  too  great  definiteness,  and  looks  too  much 
to  fundamental  change  in  the  existing  status  of  political  institutions.  All 
of  these  forms  of  social  organization  stand  opposed  to  other  existing  forms, 
while  Sociocracy  stands  opposed  only  to  the  absence  of  a  regulative  system, 
and  is  the  symbol  of  positive  social  action  as  against  the  negativism  of  the 
dominant  lassez  faire  school  of  politico-economic  doctrinaires.  It  recog- 
nizes all  forms  of  government  as  legitimate,  and,  ignoring  form,  goes  to  the 
substance,  and  denotes  that,  in  whatever  manner  organized,  it  is  the  duty  of 
society  to  act  consciously  and  intelligently,  as  becomes  an  enlightened  age, 
in  the  direction  of  guarding  its  own  interests  and  working  out  its  own 
destiny.  —  Pcnn  Monthly,  Vol.  XII,  Philadelphia,  May,  1881,  p.  336. 

But  the  other  branch  of  social  dynamics,  that  which  embraces  the  influ- 
ence of  those  active  or  positive  forces  heretofore  described,  necessarily 
connects  the  study  of  these  forces  with  the  art  of  applying  them,  which  is  a 
distinctly  human  process,  and  depends  wholly  on  the  action  of  man  himself. 
This  art  may  be  very  appropriately  named  Sociocracy,  although  it  is  the 
same  that  has  been  sometimes  called  politics,  giving  to  that  term  a  much 
wider  range  than  that  now  usually  assigned  to  it.  We  have,  therefore, 
besides  social  statics,  negative  and  positive  social  dynamics,  all  of  which 
classes  are  necessary  to  constitute  sociology  a  true  science.  —  Dynamic 
Sociology,  I,  60. 

"We  know  that  by  precisely  these  means  man  has  artificially  modified  the 
results  of  the  operation  of  law  in  all  other  sciences,  even  down  to  biology, 
and  there  can  be  no  longer  a  doubt  of  the  same  power  over  sociological 


314  Social  Sy}ithcsis  of  the  Factors. 

phenomena.  This  is  the  department  of  active  social  dynamics,  or  sociocracy, 
which  Comte  dimly  saw,  but  which  his  successors  have  thus  far  failed  to 
recognize. — Dyna/nic  Sociology,  I,  137. 

If  I  might  be  permitted  to  hint  at  the  precise  direction  from  which  Mr. 
Spencer's  great  labors  most  strongly  appeal  to  my  mind,  I  should  do  so  by 
intimating  the  possibility  that  he  himself  may  fail  to  appreciate  their  full 
scope  and  influence.  Emerson,  one  of  whose  wise  sayings  Mr.  Spencer 
has  embodied  in  his  own  remarks,  has  said  of  the  world's  greatest  artist 

that  — 

"  He  liuilded  better  than  he  knew." 

May  it  not  be  that  the  world's  greatest  philosopher  has  also  "  builded 
better  than  he  knew  " .''  May  it  not  be  that  in  telling  us  what  society  is, 
and  how  it  became  such,  he  has  unconsciously  pointed  out  the  way  in  which 
it  may  be  made  better.''  In  laying  down  the  principles  according  to  which 
social  phenomena  take  place  in  nature,  may  he  not  have  rendered  possible, 
in  the  near  future,  some  practical  applications  of  those  principles  to  higher 
social  needs  ?  I  venture  to  predict  that,  in  thus  building  the  science  of 
Sociology,  Mr.  Spencer  has  prepared  the  way  for  the  introduction,  on  the 
basis  of  that  science,  of  the  corresponding  art  of  Sociocracy.  —  Herbert 
spencer  on  ike  Americans  and  the  Americans  on  Herbert  Spencer,  p.  79. 

So  also  that  highest  art,  the  art  of  government  and  social  organization, 
may  reach,  unassisted  by  science,  a  high  degree  of  perfection  ;  but  if  it  be 
simply  an  art  it  quickly  culminates  and  declines,  or  else  becomes  petrified 
and  immutable,  as  we  see  in  the  Chinese  and  Japanese.  .  .  .  But  if  the 
scientific  principles  of  sociology  be  once  understood,  if  science  or  self- 
conscious  reason  guide  the  social  development,  there  can  no  longer  be  any 
limit  to  its  progress.  But  observe  :  this  indefinite  progress  is  due  wholly  to 
the  introduction  of  other  principles  than  those  derived  from  purely  animal 
nature  ;  it  violates  the  perfect  analogy  to  material  organisms.  —  Joseph 
Le  Conte  :  Popular  Science  Monthly,  P^bruary,  1879  (Vol.  XIV,  p.  429). 

What  iustice  is  this,  that  a  ryche  goldcsmythe,  or  an  vsurer,  or  to  bee 
shorte  anye  of  them,  which  either  doo  nothing  at  all,  or  els  that  whyche 
they  doo  is  such,  that  it  is  not  very  necessary  to  the  common  wealth,  should 
have  a  pleasauntc  and  a  welthie  lyuinge,  either  by  Idlenes,  or  by  vnneces- 
sarye  busines  :  When  in  the  meane  tyme  poore  labourers,  carter.s,  yron- 
smythes,  carpenters,  and  plowmen,  by  so  greate  and  continual  toyle,  as 
drawing  and  bearinge  beastes  be  skant  hal)le  to  susteine,  and  againe  so 
necessary  toyle,  that  witliout  it  no  common  wealtli  were  hable  to  continewe 
and  endure  one  yere,  should  yet  get  so  harde  and  poore  a  lyuing,  and  lyue 
so  wretched  and  miserable  a  lyfe,  that  the  state  and  condition  of  the  labour- 


Sociocracy.  315 

inge  beastes  maye  seme  muche  better  and  welthier?  .  .  .  And  yet  besides 
this  the  riche  men  not  only  by  priuate  fraud,  but  also  by  commen  lawes  do 
euery  day  pluck  and  snatche  awaye  from  the  poore  some  parte  of  their 
daily  liuing.  So  where  as  it  semed  before  vniuste  to  recompense  with 
vnkindnes  their  paynes  that  haue  bene  beneficiall  to  the  publique  weale, 
nowe  they  haue  to  this  their  wrong  and  vniuste  dealinge  (which  is  yet  a 
muche  worse  pointe)  geuen  the  name  of  iustice,  yea  and  that  by  force  of  a 
law.  Therefore  when  I  consider  and  way  in  my  mind  all  these  commen 
wealthes,  which  now  a  dayes  any  where  do  florish,  so  good  helpe  me,  I  can 
jjerceaue  nothing  but  a  certein  conspiracy  of  riche  men  procuringe  theire 
owne  commodities  vnder  the  name  and  title  of  the  commen  wealtli.  They 
inuent  and  deuise  all  meanes  and  craftes,  first  how  to  kepe  safely,  without 
feare  of  lesing,  that  they  haue  vniustly  gathered  together,  and  next  how  to 
hire  and  abuse  the  worke  and  laboure  of  the  poore  for  as  little  money  as 
may  be.  These  deuises,  when  the  riche  men  haue  decreed  to  be  kept  and 
obserued  vnder  coloure  of  the  comminaltie,  that  is  to  saye,  also  of  the 
pore  people,  then  they  be  made  lawes.  —  Thomas  More:  Utopia,  pp. 
158-160. 

Thus  far  attention  has  been  chiefly  confined  to  the  science 
of  society  contemplated  from  the  psychologic  standpoint. 
But  every  applied  science  has  its  corresponding  art.  And 
although  the  social  art  is  none  other  than  this  same  govern- 
ment of  which  it  has  already  been  necessary  to  say  so  much, 
still,  our  social  synthesis  would  be  incomplete  without  some 
more  special  inquiry  into  the  essential  character  of  that  art  as 
a  product  of  the  combined  consciousness,  will,  and  intellect  of 
society.  Existing  governments,  it  must  be  confessed,  after  all 
that  can  be  said  in  their  favor,  realize  this  only  to  a  very  feeble 
extent.  The  social  consciousness  is  as  yet  exceedingly  faint, 
corresponding  more  nearly  to  that  of  a  ccenohinm,  as  in  the 
FlagcUata  and  Ciliata,  than  to  any  of  the  developed  animal 
forms.  The  social  will  is,  therefore,  merely  a  mass  of  conflict- 
ing desires  which  largely  neutralize  one  another  and  result  in 
little  advance  movement  in  one  settled  direction.  The  social 
intellect  proves  a  poor  guide,  not  because  it  is  not  sufficiently  vig- 
orous, but  because  knowledge  of  those  matters  which  principally 
concern  society  is  so  limited,  while  that  which  exists  is  chiefly 


o 


1 6  Social  Syii^/icsis  of  I  he  Factors. 


lodged  in  the  minds  of  those  individuals  who  are  allowed  no 
voice  in  the  affairs  of  state. 

In  Dynamic  Sociology  I  have  pointed  out  what  I  regard  as 
the  one  certain  correction  possible  to  apply  to  this  state  of 
things,  and  have  entered  into  a  logically  arranged  demonstra- 
tion of  this  point.  "  The  universal  diffusion  of  the  maximum 
amount  of  the  most  important  knowledge "  was  the  formula 
reached  for  the  expression  of  the  result,  and  it  was  shown  that 
its  attainment  is  not  only  practicable  but  easy  and  simple 
whenever  the  social  intelligence  shall  reach  the  stage  at  which 
its  importance  is  distinctly  recognized.  It  is  only  after  the 
mind  of  society,  as  embodied  in  its  consciousness,  will,  and 
intellect,  shall,  through  the  application  of  this  formula  for  a 
sufficiently  prolonged  period  to  produce  the  required  result, 
come  to  stand  to  the  social  organism  in  somewhat  the  relation 
that  the  individual  mind  stands  to  the  individual  organism,  that 
any  fully  developed  art  of  government  can  be  expected  to 
appear.  Such  an  art  will  partake  of  the  nature  of  all  other 
arts,  as  explained  in  Part  II.  It  will  be  the  product  of  the 
inventive  faculty  perfected  through  the  inventive  genius,  and 
systematized  by  scientific  discovery  under  the  influence  of  the 
scientific  method  and  spirit. 

Contrasted  with  this  the  governments  of  the  past  and  present 
may  be  regarded  as  empirical.  Useful,  as  is  all  empirical  art, 
necessary,  and  adapted  in  a  manner  to  their  age  and  country, 
they  have  served  and  are  serving  a  purpose  in  social  develop- 
ment and  civilization.  They  have  taken  on  a  number  of 
different  forms,  of  which  the  principal  ones  are  called  either 
monarchies  or  democracies.  These  terms,  however,  never  very 
precise,  have  now  become  in  most  cases  wholly  misleading. 
The  monarchies  of  Europe,  with  perhaps  two  exceptions,  are 
now  all  democracies,  if  there  are  any  such,  and  some  of  those 
that  still  prefer  to  be  called  monarchies  are  more  democratic 
than  some  that  call  themselves  republics.  And  in  America, 
where  none  of  the  governments  have  the   monarchical    form, 


Sociocracy.  3 1  7 

some  of  them  are  decidedly  autocratic  and  elections  are  either 
a  signal  for  revolution  or  else  a  mere  farce.  So  that  the 
names  by  which  governments  are  known  are  wholly  inadequate 
indexes  to  their  true  character.  A  more  exact  classification 
would  be  into  autocracies,  aristocracies,  and  democracies.  By 
aristocracy  would  then  be  meant  a  ruling  class,  not  necessarily 
superior,  but  held  to  be  so.  Most  monarchies  belong  to  this 
class.  The  aristocracy  consists  not  merely  of  the  royal  family 
or  dynasty,  but  of  the  nobles,  clergy,  and  other  privileged 
persons,  for  all  such  really  belong  to  the  ruling  class.  Most 
European  countries  have  passed  through  the  first  two  of  these 
stages  into  the  third.  Some  may  be  considered  as  still  in  the 
second,  while  most  half-civilized,  barbarous,  or  savage  nations 
have  not  emerged  from  the  first. 

It  was  shown  in  Part  II  that  the  intellect  was  developed  as 
an  aid  to  the  will  in  furthering  the  personal  ends  of  the 
individual,  and  in  Dynamic  Sociology  (Chap.  VII)  it  was 
pointed  out  that  among  the  many  modes  of  acquisition  govern- 
ment played  a  leading  part.  This  is  more  especially  the  case 
in  the  stages  of  autocracy  and  aristocracy.  It  becomes  less  so 
in  that  of  democracy,  where  it  is  confined  to  the  professional 
politician  and  the  "legal  fraternity."  Most  of  the  attacks 
upon  government  that  it  is  now  so  fashionable  to  make  are 
based  upon  the  vivid  manner  in  which  history  portrays  the 
doings  of  the  ruling  class  during  the  stages  of  autocracy  and 
aristocracy,  and  those  who  make  them  seem  to  forget  that  in 
all  fully  enlightened  nations  this  stage  has  been  passed  and 
that  of  democracy  has  been  fairly  reached.  But  the  fear  and 
dread  of  government  still  lingers,  and  its  ghost  still  perpetually 
rises  and  will  not  down.  Although  modern  governments,  chiefly 
on  account  of  the  known  odium  in  which  they  are  held,  scarcely 
dare  carry  out  the  emphatically  declared  will  of  those  who 
create  them,  and  hesitate  to  take  a  step  forward  for  fear  of 
being  forthwith  overthrown  by  a  sweeping  plebiscite,  still  they 
are    the    objects    of    the    most    jealous    vigilance    and    violent 


o 


1 8  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 


denunciation.  Their  power  for  usefulness  is  thus  greatly 
weakened,  and  social  progress  and  reform  are  slow. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  inferred  that  human  nature  has 
been  changed  by  the  transition  from  autocracy  and  aristocracy  to 
democracy.  The  spirit  of  self-aggrandizement  is  undiminished, 
but  the  methods  of  accomplishing  it  have  been  changed.  Just 
as  society  by  the  establishment  of  the  institution  of  govern- 
ment put  an  end  to  the  internecine  strifes  that  threatened  its 
existence,  so  also  by  the  overthrow  of  autocracy  and  aristocrac)' 
it  wrested  from  the  autocrat  and  the  aristocrat  his  power  to 
subsist  upon  the  masses.  But  the  keen  egoism  of  the  astute 
individual  immediately  sought  other  means  to  better  his  condi- 
tion at  the  expense  of  those  less  gifted  with  this  irrepressible 
mental  power  or  less  favorably  circumstanced  for  its  exercise. 
What  could  not  be  secured  through  statecraft  must  be  gained 
through  some  other  species  of  craft.  And  soon  was  found  in 
the  very  weakness  of  government  the  means  of  accomplishing 
far  more  than  could  ever  be  accomplished  by  the  aid  of  the 
strongest  form  of  government.  What  could  no  longer  be 
attained  through  the  universal  or  complete  social  organization 
has  become  easy  of  attainment  through  some  one  or  other  of 
the  many  kinds  of  partial  or  incomplete  social  organizations,  as 
these  terms  were  defined  in  Chap.  XXXIV.  With  the  rigid 
system  which  has  grown  up  for  the  protection  of  the  individual 
in  his  legal  vested  rights  there  is  nothing  in  the  way  of 
advancing  to  almost  any  length  in  this  direction. 

The  reaction  in  the  direction  of  democracy,  obeying  the 
rhythmic  law  of  social  progress,  aimed  at,  and  to  a  large  extent 
attained,  a  fourth  stage  which  may  be  appropriately  called 
pJiysiocracy.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  to  consist  of  little  else  than 
that  which  was  demanded  by  the  French  school  of  political 
economists  who  styled  themselves  Physiocrats.  Neglecting 
some  of  their  special  tenets  arising  out  of  local  conditions  in 
France,  this  movement  was  not  essentially  different  from  that 
which  was  soon  after  introduced  into  Emrland  and  made  such 


Sociocracy.  3 1 9 

rapid  prof::;ress  that  it  took  complete  possession  of  the  public 
mind  and  has  furnished  the  foundation  of  the  political  philos- 
ophy of  that  country  and  of  the  social  and  economic  science 
taught  from  the  high  chairs  of  learning  wherever  the  English 
language  is  spoken.  This  physiocracy,  as  a  habit  of  thought 
rather  than  a  form  of  government,  now  goes  by  the  name  of 
individualism,  and  is  carried  so  far  by  many  as  to  amount  to  a 
practical  anarchism,^  reducing  all  government  to  the  action  of 
so-called  natural  laws. 

The  general  result  is  that  the  world,  having  passed  through 
the  stages  of  autocracy  and  aristocracy  into  the  stage  of 
democracy,  has,  by  a  natural  reaction  against  personal  power, 
so  far  minimized  the  governmental  influence  that  the  same 
spirit  which  formerly  used  government  to  advance  self  is  now 
ushering  in  a  fifth  stage,  viz.,  that  oi  plutocracy,  which  thrives 
well  in  connection  with  a  weak  democracy  or  physiocracy,  and 
aims  to  supersede  it  entirely.  Its  strongest  hold  is  the  wide- 
spread distrust  of  all  government,  and  it  leaves  no  stone 
unturned  to  fan  the  flame  of  misarchy.  Instead  of  demanding 
more  and  stronger  government  it  demands  less  and  feebler. 
Shrewdly  clamoring  for  individual  liberty,  it  per23etually  holds 
up  the  outrages  committed  by  governments  in  their  autocratic 
and  aristocratic  stages,  and  falsely  insists  that  there  is  imminent 
danger  of  their  reenactment.  Laisscz  /aire  and  the  most 
extreme  individualism,  bordering  on  practical  anarchy  in  all 
except  the  enforcement  of  existing  proprietary  rights,  are  loudly 
advocated,  and  the  public  mind  is  thus  blinded  to  the  real 
condition  of  things.  The  system  of  political  economy  that 
sprang  up  in  France  and  England  at  the  close  of  the  aristocratic 
stage  in  those  countries  is  still  taught  in  the  higher  institutions 
of  learning.  It  is  highly  favorable  to  the  spread  of  plutocracy, 
and  is  pointed  to  by  those  who  are  to  profit  by  that  system  of 
government  as  the  invincible  scientific  foundation  upon  which 
it  rests.     Many  honest  political  economists  are  still  lured  by  the 

^  Acracy  would  be  the  word  necessary  to  harmonize  the  terminology. 


320  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

specious  claims  of  this  system  and  continue  to  uphold  it,  and 
at  least  one  important  treatise  on  social  science,  that  of  Herbert 
Spencer,  defends  it  to  the  most  extreme  length.  Thus  firmly 
intrenched,  it  will  require  a  titanic  effort  on  the  part  of  society 
to  dislodge  this  baseless  prejudice,  and  rescue  itself  once  more 
from  the  rapacious  jaws  of  human  egoism  under  the  crafty 
leadership  of  a  developed  and  instructed  rational  faculty. 

Under  the  system  as  it  now  exists  the  wealth  of  the  world, 
however  created,  and  irrespective  of  the  claims  of  the  producer, 
is  made  to  flow  toward  certain  centers  of  accumulation,  to  be 
enjoyed  by  those  holding  the  keys  to  such  situations.  The  world 
appears  to  be  approaching  a  stage  at  which  those  who  labor, 
no  matter  how  skilled,  how  industrious,  or  how  frugal,  will 
receive,  according  to  the  "iron  law"  formulated  by  Ricardo, 
only  so  much  for  their  services  as  will  enable  them  "  to  subsist 
and  to  perpetuate  their  race."  The  rest  finds  its  way  into  the 
hands  of  a  comparatively  few,  usually  non-producing,  indi- 
viduals, whom  the  usages  and  laws  of  all  countries  permit  to 
claim  that  they  own  the  very  sources  of  all  wealth  and  the 
right  to  allow  or  forbid  its  production. 

These  are- great  and  serious  evils,  compared  with  which  all 
the  crimes,  recognized  as  such,  that  would  be  committed  if  no 
government  existed,  would  be  as  trifles.  The  underpaid  labor, 
the  prolonged  and  groveling  drudgery,  the  wasted  strength, 
the  misery  and  squalor,  the  diseases  resulting,  and  the  prema- 
ture deaths  that  would  be  prevented  by  a  just  distribution  of 
the  products  of  labor,  would  in  a  single  year  outweigh  all  the 
so-called  crime  of  a  century,  for  the  prevention  of  which,  it  is 
said,  government  alone  exists.  This  vast  theater  of  woe  is 
regarded  as  wholly  outside  the  jurisdiction  of  government, 
while  the  most  strenuous  efforts  are  put  forth  to  detect  and 
punish  the  perpetrators  of  the  least  of  the  ordinary  recognized 
crimes.  This  ignoring  of  great  evils  while  so  violently  striking 
at  small  ones  is  the  mark  of  an  effete  civilization,  and  warns  us 
of  the  a])i)roaching  dotage  of  the  race. 


Sociocracy.  321 

Against  the  legitimate  action  of  government  in  th'^  protec- 
tion of  society  from  these  worst  of  its  evils,  the  instincti\^e 
hostility  to  government,  or  misarchy,  above  described,  power- 
fully militates.  In  the  face  of  it  the  government  hesitates  to 
take  action,  however  clear  the  right  or  the  method.  But,  as 
already  remarked,  this  groundless  over-caution  against  an  im- 
possible occurrence  would  not,  in  and  of  itself,  have  sufficed 
to  prevent  government  from  redressing  such  palpable  wrongs. 
It  has  been  nursed  and  kept  alive  for  a  specific  purpose.  It 
has  formed-  the  chief  argument  of  those  whose  interests  require 
the  maintenance  of  the  existing  social  order  in  relation  to  the 
distribution  of  wealth.  Indeed,  it  is  doubtful  whether,  without 
the  incessant  reiteration  given  to  it  by  this  class,  it  could  have 
persisted  to  the  present  time.  This  inequitable  economic 
system  has  itself  been  the  product  of  centuries  of  astute  man- 
agement on  the  part  of  the  shrewdest  heads,  with  a  view  to 
securing  by  legal  devices  that  undue  share  of  the  world's  pro- 
ducts which  was  formerly  the  reward  of  superior  physical 
strength.  It  is  clear  to  this  class  that  their  interests  require 
a  policy  of  strict  non-interference  on  the  part  of  government 
in  what  they  call  the  natural  laws  of  political  economy,  and 
they  are  quick  to  see  that  the  old  odium  that  still  lingers 
among  the  people  can  be  made  a  bulwark  of  strength  for  their 
position.  They  therefore  never  lose  an  opportunity  to  appeal 
to  it  in  the  most  effective  manner.  Through  the  constant  use 
of  this  arguiuentiiui  ad populuni  the  anti-government  sentiment, 
which  would  naturally  have  smoldered  and  died  out  after  its 
cause  ceased  to  exist,  is  kept  perpetually  alive. 

The  great  evils  under  which  society  now  labors  have  grown 
up  during  the  progress  of  intellectual  supremacy.  They  have 
crept  in  stealthily  during  the  gradual  encroachment  of  organized 
cunning  upon  the  domain  of  brute  force.  Over  that  vanishing 
domain,  government  retains  its  power,  but  it  is  still  powerless 
in  the  expanding  and  now  all-embracing  field  of  psychic  influ- 
ence.      No    one    ever  claimed    that   in    the    trial   of   physical 


32  2  Social  Syntlusis  of  the  Factors. 

strength  the  booty  should  fall  to  the  strongest.  In  all  such 
cases  the  arm  of  government  is  stretched  out  and  justice  is 
enforced.  But  in  those  manifold,  and  far  more  unequal  strug- 
gles now  going  on  between  mind  and  mind,  or  rather  between 
the  individual  and  an  organized  system,  the  product  of  ages  of 
thought,  it  is  customary  to  say  that  such  matters  must  be  left 
to  regulate  themselves,  and  that  the  fittest  must  be  allowed  to 
survive.  Yet,  to  anyone  who  will  candidly  consider  the  matter, 
it  must  be  clear  that  the  first  and  principal  acts  of  government 
openly  and  avowedly  prevented,  through  forcible  interference, 
the  natural  results  of  all  trials  of  physical  strength.  These 
much-talked-of  laws  of  nature  are  violated  every  time  the  high- 
way robber  is  arrested  and  sent  to  jail. 

Primitive  government,  when  only  brute  force  was  employed, 
was  strong  enough  to  secure  the  just  and  equitable  distribution 
of  wealth.  To-day,  when  mental  force  is  everything,  and 
physical  force  is  nothing,  it  is  powerless  to  accomplish  this. 
This  alone  proves  that  government  needs  to  be  strengthened 
in  its  primary  quality  —  the  protection  of  society.  There  is  no 
reasoning  that  applies  to  one  kind  of  protection  that  does  not 
apply  equally  to  the  other.  It  is  utterly  illogical  to  say  that 
aggrandizement  by  physical  force  should  be  forbidden  while 
aggrandizement  by  mental  force  or  legal  fiction  should  be  per- 
mitted. It  is  absurd  to  claim  that  injustice  committed  by 
muscle  should  be  regulated,  while  that  committed  by  brain 
should  be  unrestrained. 

While  the  modern  plutocracy  is  not  a  form  of  government 
in  the  same  sense  that  the  other  forms  mentioned  are,  it  is, 
nevertheless,  easy  to  see  that  its  power  is  as  great  as  any  govern- 
ment has  ever  wielded.  The  test  of  governmental  power  is 
usually  the  manner  in  which  it  ta.xes  the  people,  and  the 
strongest  indictments  ever  drawn  up  against  the  worst  forms  of 
tyranny  have  been  those  which  recited  their  oppressive  methods 
of  extorting  tribute.  But  tithes  are  regarded  as  oppressive, 
and  a  fourth  part  of  the  yield  of  any  industry  would  justify  a 


Sociocracy.  323 

revolt.  Yet  to-day  there  are  many  commodities  for  wliich  the 
people  pay  two  and  three  times  as  much  as  would  cover  the 
cost  of  production,  transportation,  and  exchange  at  fair  wages 
and  fair  profits.  The  monopolies  in  many  lines  actually  tax  the 
consumer  from  25  to  75  per  cent  of  the  real  value  of  the  goods. 
Imagine  an  excise  tax  that  should  approach  these  figures  !  It 
was  shown  in  Chap.  XXXIII  that  under  the  operation  of  either 
monopoly  or  aggressive  competition  the  price  of  everything 
is  pushed  up  to  the  maximum  limit  that  will  be  paid  for  the 
commodity  in  profitable  quantities,  and  this  wholly  irrespective 
of  the  cost  of  production.  No  government  in  the  world  has 
now,  or  ever  had,  the  power  to  enforce  such  an  extortion  as  this. 
It  is  a  governing  power  in  the  interest  of  favored  individuals, 
which  exceeds  that  of  the  most  powerful  monarch  or  despot  that 
ever  wielded  a  scepter. 

What  then  is  the  remedy.''  How  can  society  escape  this  last 
conquest  of  power  by  the  egoistic  intellect }  It  has  overthrown 
the  rule  of  brute  force  by  the  establishment  of  government. 
It  has  supplanted  autocracy  by  aristocracy  and  this  by  democ- 
racy, and  now  it  finds  itself  in  the  coils  of  plutocracy.  Can  it 
escape .''  Must  it  go  back  to  autocracy  for  a  power  sufficient  to 
cope  with  plutocracy .-'  No  autocrat  ever  had  a  tithe  of  that 
power.  Shall  it  then  let  itself  be  crushed  ">  It  need  not. 
There  is  one  power  and  only  one  that  is  greater  than  that  which 
now  chiefly  rules  society.  That  power  is  society  itself.  There 
is  one  form  of  government  that  is  stronger  than  autocracy  or 
aristocracy  or  democracy,  or  even  plutocracy,  and  that  is 
sociocracy. 

The  individual  has  reigned  long  enough.  The  day  has  come 
for  society  to  take  its  affairs  into  its  own  hands  and  shape  its 
own  destinies.  The  individual  has  acted  as  best  he  could. 
He  has  acted  in  the  only  way  he  could.  With  a  consciousness, 
will,  and  intellect  of  his  own  he  could  do  nothing  else  than 
pursue  his  natural  ends.  He  should  not  be  denounced  nor 
called  any  names.      He  should  not  even  be  blamed.     Nay,  he 


324  Social  Sy7z thesis  of  the  Factors. 

should  be  praised,  and  even  imitated.  Society  should  learn  its 
great  lesson  from  him,  should  follow  the  path  he  has  so  clearly 
laid  out  that  leads  to  success.  It  should  imagine  itself  an 
individual,  with  all  the  interests  of  an  individual,  and  becoming 
fully  conscious  of  these  interests  it  should  pursue  them  with 
the  same  indomitable  will  with  which  the  individual  pursues 
his  interests.  Not  only  this,  it  must  be  guided,  as  he  is  guided, 
by  the  social  intellect,  armed  with  all  the  knowledge  that  all 
individuals  combined,  with  so  great  labor,  zeal,  and  talent 
have  placed  in  its  possession,  constituting  the  social  intelli- 
gence. 

Sociocracy  will  differ  from  all  other  forms  of  government  that 
have  been  devised,  and  yet  that  difference  will  not  be  so  radical 
as  to  require  a  revolution.  Just  as  absolute  monarchy  passed 
imperceptibly  into  limited  monarchy,  and  this,  in  many  states 
without  even  a  change  of  name  has  passed  into  more  or  less 
pure  democracy,  so  democracy  is  capable  of  passing  as  smoothly 
into  sociocracy,  and  without  taking  on  this  unfamiliar  name  or 
changing  that  by  which  it  is  now  known.  For,  though  paradox- 
ical, democracy,  which  is  now  the  weakest  of  all  forms  of 
government,  at  least  in  the  control  of  its  own  internal  elements, 
is  capable  of  becoming  the  strongest.  Indeed,  none  of  the 
other  forms  of  government  would  be  capable  of  passing  directly 
into  a  government  by  society.  Democracy  is  a  phase  through 
which  they  must  first  pass  on  any  route  that  leads  to  the 
ultimate  social  stage  which  all  governments  must  eventually 
attain  if  they  persist. 

How  then,  it  may  be  asked,  do  democracy  and  sociocracy 
differ .-'  How  does  society  differ  from  the  people .''  If  the 
phrase  "the  people"  really  meant  the  people,  the  difference 
would  be  less.  But  that  shibboleth  of  democratic  states,  where 
it  means  anything  at  all  that  can  be  described  or  defined,  stands 
simply  for  the  majority  of  qualified  electors,  no  matter  how 
small  that  majority  may  be.  There  is  a  sense  in  which  the 
action    of   a    majority    may   be    looked    upon    as    the  action  of 


Socioci^acy.  325 

society.  At  least,  there  is  no  denying  the  right  of  the  majority 
to  act  for  society,  for  to  do  this  would  involve  either  the  denial 
of  the  right  of  government  to  act  at  all,  or  the  admission  of  the 
right  of  a  minority  to  act  for  society.  But  a  majority  acting 
for  society  is  a  different  thing  from  society  acting  for  itself, 
even  though,  as  must  always  be  the  case,  it  acts  through  an 
agency  chosen  by  its  members.  All  democratic  governments 
are  largely  party  governments.  The  electors  range  themselves 
on  one  side  or  the  other  of  some  party  line,  the  winning  side 
considers  itself  the  state  as  much  as  Louis  the  Fourteenth  did. 
The  losing  party  usually  then  regards  the  government  as  some- 
thing alien  to  it  and  hostile,  like  an  invader,  and  thinks  of 
nothing  but  to  gain  strength  enough  to  overthrow  it  at  the  next 
opportunity.  While  various  issues  are  always  brought  forward 
and  defended  or  attacked,  it  is  obvious  to  the  looker-on  that  the 
contestants  care  nothing  for  these,  and  merely  use  them  to  gain 
an  advantage  and  win  an  election. 

From  the  standpoint  of  society  this  is  child's  play.  A  very 
slight  awakening  of  the  social  consciousness  will  banish  it  and 
substitute  something  more  business-like.  Once  get  rid  of  this 
puerile  gaming  spirit  and  have  attention  drawn  to  the  real 
interests  of  society,  and  it  will  be  seen  that  upon  nearly  all 
important  questions  all  parties  and  all  citizens  are  agreed,  and 
that  there  is  no  need  of  this  partisan  strain  upon  the  public 
energies.  This  is  clearly  shown  at  every  change  in  the  party 
complexion  of  the  government.  The  victorious  party  which 
has  been  denouncing  the  government  merely  because  it  was  in 
the  hands  of  its  political  opponents  boasts  that  it  is  going  to 
revolutionize  the  country  in  the  interest  of  good  government, 
but  the  moment  it  comes  into  power  and  feels  the  weight  of 
national  responsibility  it  finds  that  it  has  little  to  do  but  carry 
out  the  laws  in  the  same  way  that  its  predecessors  had  been 
doing. 

There  is  a  vast  difference  between  all  this  outward  show  of 
partisanship  and  advocacy  of  so-called  principles,  and  attention 


326  Social  Syn//ics2S  of  the  Factors. 

to  the  real  interests  and  necessary  business  of  the  nation, 
which  latter  is  what  the  government  must  do.  It  is  a  social 
duty.  The  pressure  which  is  brought  to  enforce  it  is  the  power 
of  the  social  will.  But  in  the  factitious  excitement  of  partisan 
struggles  where  professional  politicians  and  demagogues  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  agents  of  plutocracy  on  the  other,  are 
shouting  discordantly  in  the  ears  of  the  people,  the  real  inter- 
ests of  society  are,  temporarily  at  least,  lost  sight  of,  clouded 
and  obscured,  and  men  lose  their  grasp  on  the  real  issues, 
forget  even  their  own  best  interests,  which,  however  selfish, 
would  be  a  far  safer  guide,  and  the  general  result  usually  is 
that  these  are  neglected  and  nations  continue  in  the  hands  of 
mere  politicians  who  are  easily  managed  by  the  shrewd  repre- 
sentatives of  wealth. 

Sociocracy  will  change  all  this.  Irrelevant  issues  will  be 
laid  aside.  The  important  objects  upon  which  all  but  an  inter- 
ested few  are  agreed  will  receive  their  proper  degree  of  atten- 
tion, and  measures  will  be  considered  in  a  non-partisan  spirit 
with  the  sole  purpose  of  securing  these  objects.  Take  as  an 
illustration  the  postal  telegraph  question.  No  one  not  a  stock- 
holder in  an  existing  telegraph  company  would  prefer  to  pay 
twenty-five  cents  for  a  message  if  he  could  send  it  for  ten 
cents.  Where  is  the  room  for  discussing  a  question  of  this 
nature }  What  society  wants  is  the  cheapest  possible  system. 
It  wants  to  know  with  certainty  whether  a  national  postal  tele- 
graph system  would  secure  this  universally  desired  object.  It 
is  to  be  expected  that  the  agents  of  the  present  telegraph  com- 
panies would  try  to  show  that  it  would  not  succeed.  This 
is  according  to  the  known  laws  of  psychology  as  set  forth  in  this 
work.  But  why  be  influenced  by  the  interests  of  such  a  small 
number  of  persons,  however  worthy,  when  all  the  rest  of  man- 
kind are  interested  in  the  opposite  solution  .''  The  investiga- 
tion should  be  a  disinterested  and  strictly  scientific  one,  and 
should  actually  settle  the  question  in  one  way  or  the  other. 
If  it  was  found   to   be   a  real  benefit,  the   system    should   be 


Sociocracy.  327 

adopted.  There  are  to-day  a  t;"reat  number  of  these  strietly 
social  questions  before  the  American  people,  questions  which 
concern  every  citizen  in  the  country,  aud  whose  solution  would 
doubtless  profoundly  affect  the  state  of  civilization  attainable 
on  this  continent.  Not  only  is  it  impossible  to  secure  this,  but 
it  is  impossible  to  secure  an  investigation  of  them  on  their  real 
merits.  The  same  is  true  of  other  countries,  and  in  general 
the  prevailing  democracies  of  the  world  are  incompetent  to 
deal  with  problems  of  social  welfare. 

The  more  extreme  and  important  case  referred  to  a  few 
pages  back  may  make  the  distinction  still  more  clear.  It  was 
shown,  and  is  known  to  all  political  economists,  that  the  prices 
of  most  of  the  staple  commodities  consumed  by  mankind  have 
no  necessary  relation  to  the  cost  of  producing  them  and  j^lacing 
them  in  the  hands  of  the  consumer.  It  is  always  the  highest 
price  that  the  consumer  will  pay  rather  than  do  without.  Let 
lis  suppose  that  price  to  be  on  an  average  double  what  it  would 
cost  to  produce,  transport,  exchange,  and  deliver  the  goods, 
allowing  in  each  of  these  transactions  a  fair  compensation  for 
all  services  rendered.  Is  there  any  member  of  society  who 
would  jDrefer  to  pay  two  dollars  for  what  is  thus  fairly  worth 
only  one .''  Is  there  any  sane  ground  for  arguing  such  a  ques- 
tion .''  Certainly  not.  The  individual  cannot  correct  this  state 
of  things.  No  democracy  can  correct  it.  But  a  government 
that  really  represented  the  interests  of  society  would  no 
more  tolerate  it  than  an  individual  would  tolerate  a  con- 
tinual extortion  of  money  on  the  part  of  another  without  an 
equivalent. 

And  so  it  would  be  throughout.  Society  would  inquire  in  a 
business  way  without  fear,  favor,  or  bias,  into  everything  that 
concerned  its  welfare,  and  if  it^found  obstacles  it  would  remove 
them,  and  if  it  found  opportunities  it  would  improve  them. 
In  a  word,  society  would  do  under  the  same  circumstances  just 
what  an  intelligent  individual  would  do.  It  would  further,  in 
all  possible  ways,  its  own  interests. 


3 28  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

I  anticipate  the  objection  that  this  is  an  ideal  state  of  things, 
and  that  it  has  never  been  attained  by  any  people,  and  to  all 
appearances  never  can  be.  No  fair-minded  critic  will,  however, 
add  the  customary  objection  that  is  raised,  not  wholly  without 
truth,  to  all  socialistic  schemes,  that  they  presuppose  a  change 
in  "human  nature."  Because  in  the  transformation  here  fore- 
shadowed the  permanence  of  all  the  mental  attributes  is  postu- 
lated, and  I  have  not  only  refrained  from  dwelling  upon  the 
moral  progress  of  the  world,  but  have  not  even  enumerated 
among  the  social  forces  the  powder  of  sympathy  as  a  factor  in 
civilization.  I  recognize  this  factor  as  one  of  the  derivative 
ones,  destined  to  perform  an  important  part,  but  I  have  pre- 
ferred to  rest  the  case  upon  the  primary  and  original  egoistic 
influences,  believing  that  neither  meliorism  nor  sociocracy  is 
dependent  upon  any  sentiment,  or  upon  altruistic  props  for 
its  support.  At  least  the  proofs  will  be  stronger  if  none  of 
these  aids  are  called  in,  and  if  they  can  be  shown  to  have  a 
legitimate  influence,  this  is  only  so  much  added  to  the  weight 
of  evidence. 

To  the  other  charge  the  answer  is  that  ideals  are  necessary, 
and  also  that  no  ideal  is  ever  fully  realized.  If  it  can  be  shown 
that  society  is  actually  moving  toward  any  ideal  the  ultimate 
substantial  realization  of  that  ideal  is  as  good  as  proved.  The 
proofs  of  such  a  movement  in  society  to-day  are  abundant.  In 
many  countries  the  encroachments  of  egoistic  individualism 
have  been  checked  at  a  number  of  important  points.  In  this 
country  alarm  has  been  taken  in  good  earnest  at  the  march  of 
plutocracy  under  the  protection  of  democracy.  Party  lines  are 
giving  way  and  there  are  unmistakable  indications  that  a  large 
proportion  of  the  people  are  becoming  seriously  interested  in 
the  social  progress  of  the  country.  For  the  first  time  in  the 
history  of  political  parties  there  has  been  formed  a  distinctively 
inchistrial   party  ^  which  possesses   all   the  elements  of   perma- 

^  For  the  last  ten  years  or  more  there  have  been  indications  in  this  country  tliat 
a  deep  undercurrent  of   public  sentiment  was  setting  in   toward  the  formation  of 


Sociocracy.  329 

nencc  and  may  soon  be  a  controlling  factor  in  American 
politics.  Though  this  may  not  as  yet  presage  a  great  social 
revolution,  still  it  is  precisely  the  way  in  which  a  reform  in  the 
direction  indicated  should  be  expected  to  originate.  But 
whether  the  present  movement  prove  enduring  or  ephemeral, 
the  seeds  of  reform  have  been  sown  broadcast  throughout  the 
land,  and  sooner  or  later  they  must  spring  up,  grow,  and  bear 
their  fruit. 

For  a  long  time  to  come  social  action  must  be  chiefly 
negative  and  be  confined  to  the  removal  of  evils  that  exist, 
such  as  have  been  pointed  out  in  these  pages,  but  a  positive 
stage  will  ultimately  be  reached  in  which  society  will  consider 
and  adopt  measures  for  its  own  advancement.  The  question 
of  the  respective  provinces  of  social  action  and  individual  action 
cannot  be  entered  into  here  at  length,  but  it  is  certain  that  the 
former  will  continue  to  encroach  upon  the  latter  so  long  as 
such  encroachment  is  a  public  benefit.  There  is  one  large 
field  in  which  there  is  no  question  on  this  point,  viz.,  the  field 
covered  by  what,  in  modern  economic  parlance,  is  called 
"  natural  monopoly."  The  arguments  are  too  familiar  to 
demand  restatement  here,  and  the  movement  is  already  so  well 
under  way  that  there  is  little  need  of  further  argument.      As 

such  a  political  party,  and  while  I  claim  for  myself  no  special  gift  of  prophecy,  I 
was  able  to  foresee  this  some  years  before  it  took  any  definite  form.  In  the 
Forum  for  June,  1887,  or  about  four  years  before  the  Cincinnati  convention 
was  called,  at  the  close  of  an  article  on  False  Notions  of  Government,  some  parts 
of  which  I  have  reproduced  in  this  chapter,  occurs  the  following  paragraph  which 
may  be  said  to  foreshadow  events  that  followed,  and  which  is  as  true  and  salu- 
tary now  as  it  was  at  that  date  : 

"  The  true  solution  of  the  great  social  problem  of  this  age  is  to  be  found  in  the 
ultimate  establishment  of  a  genuine  people's  government,  with  ample  power  to 
protect  society  against  all  forms  of  injustice,  from  whatever  source,  coupled  with 
a  warm  and  dutiful  regard  for  the  true  interests  of  each  and  all,  the  poor  as  well 
as  the  rich.  If  this  be  what  is  meant  by  the  oft-repeated  phrase  'paternal  govern- 
ment,' then  were  this  certainly  a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished.  But  in 
this  conception  of  government  there  is  nothing  paternal.  It  gets  rid  entirely  of 
the  paternal,  the  patriarchal,  the  personal  element,  and  becomes  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  the  effective  e.xpression  of  the  public  will,  the  active  agency  by  which 
society  consciously  and  intelligently  governs  its  own  conduct." 


330  Social  Synthesis  of  the  Factors. 

to  what  lies  beyond  this,  however,  there  is  room  for  much 
discussion  and  honest  difference  of  opinion.  This  is  because 
there  has  been  so  little  induction.  It  is  the  special  character- 
istic of  the  form  of  government  that  I  have  called  sociocracy, 
resting  as  it  does,  directly  upon  the  science  of  sociology,  to 
investigate  the  facts  bearing  on  every  subject,  not  for  the 
purpose  of  depriving  any  class  of  citizens  of  the  opportunity  to 
benefit  themselves,  but  purely  and  solely  for  the  purpose  of 
ascertaining  what  is  for  the  best  interests  of  society  at  large. 

The  socialistic  arguments  in  favor  of  society  taking  upon 
itself  the  entire  industrial  operations  of  the  world  have  never 
seemed  to  me  conclusive,  chiefly  because  they  have  consisted 
so  largely  of  pure  theory  and  a  priori  deductions.  Any  one 
who  has  become  imbued  by  the  pursuit  of  some  special  branch 
of  science  with  the  nature  of  scientific  evidence  requires  the 
presentation  of  such  evidence  before  he  can  accept  conclusions 
in  any  other  department.  And  this  should  be  the  attitude  of 
all  in  relation  to  these  broader  questions  of  social  phenomena. 
The  true  economist  can  scarcely  go  farther  than  to  say  that  a 
given  question  is  an  open  one,  and 'that  he  will  be  ready  to 
accept  the  logic  of  facts  when  these  are  brought  forward.  I 
do  not  mean  that  we  must  not  go  into  the  water  until  we  have 
learned  to  swim.  This,  however,  suggests  the  true  method  of 
solving  such  questions.  One  learns  to  swim  by  a  series  of 
trials,  and  society  can  well  afford  to  try  experiments  in  certain 
directions  and  note  the  results.  There  are,  however,  other 
methods,  such  as  careful  estimates  of  the  costs  and  accurate 
calculations  of  the  effect  based  on  the  uniform  laws  of  social 
phenomena.  Trial  is  the  ultimate  test  of  scientific  theory 
thus  formed,  and  may,  in  social  as  in  physical  science,  either 
establish  or  overthrow  hypotheses.  But  in  social  science,  no 
less  than  in  other  branches  of  science,  the  working  hypothesis 
must  always  be  the  chief  instrument  of  successful  research. 

Until  the  scientific  stage  is  reached,  and  as  a  necessary 
introduction    to    it,    social    problems    may    properly   be   clearly 


Sociocracy.  331 

stated  and  such  general  considerations  brought  forward  as  have 
a  direct  bearing  upon  them.  I  know  of  no  attempts  of  this 
nature  which  I  can  more  warmly  recommend  than  those  made 
by  John  Stuart  Mill  in  his  little  work  on  Liberty,^  and  in  his 
Chapters  on  Socialism,  of  which  the  latter  appeared  post- 
humously. They  are  in  marked  contrast,  by  their  all-sided 
wisdom,  with  the  intensely  one-sided  writings  of  Herbert 
Spencer  on  substantially  the  same  subject  ;  and  yet  the  two 
authors  are  obviously  at  one  on  the  main  points  discussed. 
This  candid  statement  of  the  true  claims  of  the  laissez  faire 
school  is  perfectly  legitimate.  Equally  so  are  like  candid 
presentations  of  the  opposite  side  of  the  question.  The  more 
light  that  can  be  shed  on  all  sides  the  better,  but  in  order 
really  to  elucidate  social  problems  it  must  be  the  dry  light  of 
science,  as  little  influenced  by  feeling  as  though  it  were  the 
inhabitants  of  Jupiter's  moons,  instead  of  those  of  this  planet, 
that  were  under  the  field  of  the  intellectual  telescope. 

1  Even  despotism  does  not  produce  its  worst  effects,  so  long  as  Individuality 
exists  under  it ;  and  whatever  crushes  individuality  is  despotism,  by  whatever 
name  it  may  be  called.  —  John  Stuart  Mill  :  On  Liberty,  pp.  122-123. 

Neither  one  person,  nor  any  number  of  persons,  is  warranted  in  saying  to 
another  human  creature  of  ripe  years,  that  he  shall  not  do  with  his  life  for  his 
own  benefit  what  he  choses  to  do  with  it.  —  John  Stuart  Mill  :  Ibid.,  p.  147. 

The  strongest  of  all  the  arguments  against  .the  interference  of  the  public  with 
purely  personal  conduct,  is  that  when  it  does  interfere,  the  odds  are  that  it  inter- 
feres wrongly,  and  in  the  wrong  place.  —  John  Stu.\rt  Mill  :  Ibid.,  p.  161. 


LIST    OF    AUTHORS    AND    THEIR    WORKS 

CITED    OR    REFERRED     R),  WITH    CRITICAL    AND    EXPLANATORY  NOTES.' 

[Figures  in  full-face  type  refer  to  pages  of  this  work.] 

It  was  found  undesirable  to  indicate  the  sources  of  the  numerous 
quotations  more  fully  than  was  consistent  with  clearness.  The  present  list 
aims  to  furnish  any  additional  information  that  may  be  desired.  The 
pages  referred  to  in  the  text  are  those  of  the  editions  mentioned  in  this 
list. 

About,  Edmond. 

A  B  C  du  Travailleur,  Deuxieme  Edition,  Paris,   1869.     8°. 
Cited  on  pages  222,  233,  and  240. 

Addison,  Joseph. 

Cato.  —  The  Works  of  the  Right  Honorable  Joseph  Addison,  a  New 
Edition  with  Notes  by  Richard  Hurd,  D.D.,  Lord  Bishop  of 
Worcester  ;  in  six  volumes.  Bohn's  Standard  Library,  Addi- 
son's Works,  Vol.  I.  London  :  George  Bell  &  Sons,  York 
Street,  i88i.     Cato,  pp.  162-226. 

The  celebrated  line  quoted  on  page  175  occurs  in  Cato,  Act. 
iv,  Scene  i,  p.  212. 

Allen,  Grant. 

The  Origin  of  P>uits.  Cornhill  Magazine,  Vol.  XXXVIII,  August, 
1878,  pp.  174-188. 

Cited  on  page  248. 

Argenson,  Marc  Pierre,  Marquis  d'. 
See  Daire,  Dupont  de  Nemours. 

Bacon,  Francis,  Lord. 

Novum  Organum.  The  Works  of  Francis  Bacon,  Baron  of  Verulam, 
Viscount  of  St.  Albans,  and  Lord  High  Chancellor  of  England. 
Collected    and    Edited    by    James    Spedding,    M.A.,    of    Trinity 

1  The  author  desires  to  acknowledge  his  indebtedness  to  Mr.  David  Ilutcheson 
of  the  Library  of  Congress  for  valuable  assistance  in  the  preparation  of  this  list, 
as  well  as  throughout  the  literary  investigations  undertaken  in  connection  with 
the  work. 


334  Zr'j-/  of  AutJiors  and  their   Works. 

College,  Cambridge  ;  Robert  Leslie  Ellis,  M.A.,  Late  Fellow  of 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge;  and  Douglas  Denon  Heath,  Barrister- 
at-Law,  Late  Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  Vol.  I, 
New  York  :  Published  by  Hurd  &  Houghton,  Cambridge  :  River- 
side Press.      1869. 

Cited  on  pages  190,  196-197. 

Beccaria,    Cesare. 

Opere.     Milano  :  Dalla  Societh.  tipogr.  dei  Classici  Italiani,  1821. 

The  Maxim  cited  on  page  282  occurs  in  the  treatise  entitled  : 
Dei  Delitti  e  delle  Pene.  This  is  published  separately  at  Paris, 
1829.     See  p.  2. 

Bentham,  Jeremy. 

The  Works  of  Jeremy  Bentham,  published  under  the  superintendence 
of    his    executor,    John    Bowring.     Edinburgh  :    William    Tait ; 
Simpkin,  Mar.shall  &  Co.,  London,  1843. 
Cited  on  page  282. 

Bourdillon,  Francis  W. 

Light.  —  Harper's  Cyclopedia  of  British  and  American  Poetry.    Edited 
by  Epes  Sargent.      New  York  :      Harper  &  Brothers,   Franklin 
Square,  1881,  p.  938. 
Cited  on  page  44. 

Brooks,  W.  K. 

The  condition  of  Women  from  a  Zoological  Point  of  View.  Popular 
Science  Monthly,  New  York,  Vol.  XV,  June,  1879,  pp.  145-155  ; 
July,  1875,  PP-  347-356- 

Cited  on  pages  169,  174. 

Buttikofer,  J. 

Reisebilder  aus  Liberia.     Resultate  geographischer,  naturwissenschaft- 
licher  und  ethnographischer  Untersuchungen  wahrend  der  Jahre 
1 879-1 882  und  1 886-1 887.     Leiden,  E.  J.  Brill    1890.     2  vols.  8°. 
Cited  on  pages  254,  255. 

Byron,  George  G(jRnoN,  Lord. 

The  Poetical  Works  of  Lord  Byron.  Wm.  W.  Swayne,  Brooklyn  and 
New  York. 

The  line  quoted  on  page  64,  occurs  on  p.  60  of  the  above 
edition  and  on  p.  560  of  the  London  edition,  1851.  The  motto 
placed  at  the  head  of  the  Preface  (p.  v)  is  from  Childe  Harold's 
Pilgrimage,  Canto  iv,  Stanza  185.  The  other  mottos  from  Bvron 
on  pages  163  and  215  are  accompanied  by  adecjuate  references. 


List  of  AtitJiors  and  their   Works.  335 

Cairnes,  J.  E. 

Mr.  Spencer  on  Social  Evolution,     Fortnightly  Review,  Vol.  XXIII 
(New  Series,  Vol.  XVII),  London,  January,  1875,  PP-  63-82. 
Cited  on  pages  291-292. 

Carlyle,  Thomas. 

Varnhagen  von  Ense's  Memoirs.  London  and  Westminster  Review, 
Vol.  XXXII,  London,  1839  (December,  1838  to  April,  1839), 
pp.  60-84.  —  Thomas  Carlyle's  Collected  Works,  Library  Edition 
in  thirty  volumes.  Vol.  X  ;  Critical  and  Miscellaneous  Essays, 
Vol.  V,  pp.  287-322. 

The  passage  cited  on  page  208  occurs  on  p.  75  of  the  former, 
and  on  p.  309  of  the  latter  of  these  volumes. 

Carpenter,  William  B. 

Principles  of  Mental  Physiology,  with  their  Applications  to  the  Training 
and  Discipline  of  the  Mind,  and  the  Study  of  its  Morbid  Condi- 
tions.    New  York,  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1875. 
Cited  on  pages  12,  15,  171. 

Clark,  John  B. 

The  Philcsoi^hy  of  Wealth.  Economic  Principles  Newly  Formulated. 
Boston,  Ginn  &  Co.,  1886. 

Cited  on  pages  117,  199,  240. 

Clarke,  F.  W. 

An  Attempt  at  a  Theory  of  Odor.  See  a  brief  abstract  in  the  Bulletin 
of  the  Philosophical  Society  of  Washington,  Vol.  VIII,  Washing- 
ton, Smithsonian  Institution,  1886,  p.  27.  (Smithsonian  Miscel- 
laneous Collections,   No.  636.     Vol.  XXXIII,  Article  III.) 

This  very  suggestive  paper  has  never  been  published  in  full, 
because,  as  the  author  informs  me,  it  is  as  yet  little  more  than  a 
theory,  which,  however,  he  hopes  ultimately  to  establish  if  true. 
My  knowledge  of  Prof.  Clarke's  views  is  therefore  chiefly  derived 
from  hearing  the  paper  read,  and  from  subsequent  interviews  with 
him  in  relation  to  it. 
See  page  18. 

Coke,  Sir  Edward. 

The  Reports  of  Sir  Edward  Coke,  Knt.,  in  thirteen  parts.  A  New 
Edition,  with  additional  notes  and  references,  and  with  abstracts 
of  the  principal  points.  .  .  .  By  John  Henry  Thomas  .  .  .  and 
John  Farquhar  Fraser.  ...  In  six  volumes,  London  :  Joseph 
Butterworth  &  Son,  and  J.  Cooke,  Dublin,  1826. 
Cited  on  page  276. 


336  List  of  Authors  and  their   JTorhs. 

COMTK,    AUGUSTE. 

Cours  de  Philosophic  Positive,  Troisi&me  Edition  augmentee  d'une 
Preface  par  E.  Littr^.  Paris,  J.  B.  BailHere  et  Fils,  1869.  Six 
volumes,  8°. 

Cited  on  pages  ii,  1,  37,  190,  194,  240. 

Cross,  J.  W. 

George  Eliot's  Life  as  related  in  her  Letters  and  Journals,  arranged 
and   edited   by   her   Husband,   J.   W.    Cross.      In   three   volumes. 
William  }51ackwood  &  Sons,  Edinburgh  and  London,  1884. 
Cited  on  page  281. 

Daire,  Eugene. 

Collection  d'Economistes.  Nouvelle  Edition,  Paris,  1844.  Tome 
premier,  CEuvres  de  Turgot.  Tome  second,  Physiocrates  (Quesnay, 
Dupont  de  Nemours,  etc.).     Tome  troisieme,  Turgot. 

This  work  is  one  of  the  principal  sources  of  information  relative 
to  the  early  French  political  economists,  whose  scattered  writings 
are  now  difficult  of  access.  The  aphorisms  of  the  Marquis 
d'Argenson,  de  Gournay,  and  others  are  to  be  found  here  with  a 
full  history  of  their  origin.  See  Dupont  de  Nemours,  Quesnay, 
Turgot,  below. 

Darwin,  Charles. 

Journal  of  Researches  into  the  Natural  History  and  Geology  of  the 
Countries   visited   during    the  Voyage    of    H.M.S.    Beagle   round 
the  World,  under  the  command  of  Capt.  Fitz  Roy,  R.  N.     New 
Edition.     New  York  :  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1871. 
Cited  on  pages  246-247. 
Autobiography  ;  being  Chapter  1 1  of  The  Life  and  Letters  of  Charles 
Darwin,    edited   by  his   son   Francis    Darwin.     In   two  volumes. 
New  York  :  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1888.     8°. 
Reference  on  page  280. 

Diogenes  Laertius. 

Zeno.  —  Diogenis  Laertii  de  Clarorum  Philosopliorum  Vitis,  Dogma- 
tibus  et  Apophthegmatibus  Libri  decem.  Ex  Italicis  Codicibus 
nunc  primum  excussis  recensuit  C.  Gabr.  Cobet.  .  .  .  Gra;ce  et 
Latine  cum  indicibus.  Parisiis  :  Editore  Ambrosio  Firmin  Didot, 
Instituti   Francias  Typographo.      1850.     Zeno,  ^^ol.  XII,  pp.  159- 

193- 

The  passage  quoted  on  page  147  occurs  on  p.  177  of  Vol.  XII 
of  this  edition.  The  corresponding  Latin  is  as  follows  :  Primam 
animantis  appetitioncm  lianc  esse  dicunt,  se  ipsum  tuendi  atque 
servandi. 


TJst  of  Authors  and  I/tcir   IForhs.  337 

Disraeli,  Benjamin,  Earl  ok  Beaconskield. 

Coningsby,    or   the    New    Generation.      New    Edition.      New    York : 
George  Routledge  &  Sons. 
Cited  on  page  64. 

Du  Bartas. 

Diuine  Weekes  and  Workes.  With  a  Compleate  Collection  of  all 
the  other  most  delight-full  Workes.  Translated  and  written  by 
the  famous  Philomusus,  losvah  Sylvester.  London  :  printed  by 
Robert  Young  with  Additions,  1641. —  The  First  Weeke  :  Or 
Birth  of  the  World.  Of  the  Noble,  Learned,  and  Diuine  W. 
Salustius,  Lord  of  Bartas,  1605. 

Cited  on  page  238.  This  couplet  occurs  on  p.  1S4  of  the  edi- 
tion of  1605,  and  on  p.  46  (col.  2)  of  that  of  1641.  The  original 
French  (Guillaume  de  Salluste,  Seigneur  du  Bartas)  I  have  not 
seen. 

Du  Bois-Revmond,  Emil. 

Culturgeschichte  und  Naturwissenschaft.  Vortrag  gehalten  am  24. 
Marz  1877  im  Verein  fiir  wissenschaftliche  Vorlesungen  zu  Koln. 
Zweiter  unveranderter  Abdruck.  Leipzig :  \''erlag  von  Veit  & 
Comp.,  187S. 

Cited  on  page  132. 

DuPONT  DE  Nemours,  Pierre  Samuel. 

Abr^ge  des  Principes  de  I'Economie  Politique.      1 772. 

This  work  is  reproduced  in  Daire's  Collection  d'Economistes, 
Vol.  II,  Physiocrates,  Dupont  de  Nemours.  The  citation  on 
page  241  occurs  on  p.  374  of  that  volume.  In  Vol.  Ill  of  the 
same  work  may  be  found  an  interesting  "  Preambule  "  to  Turgot's 
"  Eloge  de  M.  de  Gournay,"  written  by  Dupont,  in  which 
the  celebrated  saying  of  the  Marquis  d'Argenson  :  '•Pas  irop 
gouvertier,''''  and  the  historic  phrase  of  de  Gournay:  '■^ Laissez 
faij'e  et  laissez passer^^''  occur. 
See  further  under  Quesnay. 

ECKERMANN,    JOHANN    PeTER. 

Gesprache  mit  Goethe  in  den  letzten  Jahren  seines  Lebens,  1823-1832. 
Zweite  Ausgabe.     Leipzig,  1837.     3  vols,  (parts). 

The  passage  quoted  on  page  63  occurs  in  a  conversation  held 
Jan.  27,  1824. 

George  Eliot. 

See  Cross,  J.  W. 

The  words  reproduced  on  j^age  281  will  be  found  in  the  letter 


2,T,S  List  of  Authors  and  their   Works. 

which  she  wrote  to  James  Sully,  dated  Jan.  19,  1S77.     Life,  etc., 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  267. 

Goethe,  Johann  Wolfgang  von. 
See  Eckermann,  Johann  Peter. 

Goldsmith,  Oliver. 

The  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  A  Tale  supposed  to  be  written  by  himself. 
Salisbury:  Printed  by  B.  Collins,  for  F.  Newbery,  in  Pater-Noster- 
Row,  London,  1 766.  2  vols.  1 2mo.  —  The  Works  of  Oliver  Gold- 
smith. Edited  by  Peter  Cunningham.  In  four  volumes.  Vol.  L 
Boston:  Little,  Brown  &  Co.,  1854,  pp.  292-468. 

This  last  is  the  edition  cited  on  page  51.  The  original  edition 
of  1766  is  quoted  by  the  editor,  the  title-page  as  given  above 
occupying  page  292. 

GouRNAY,  Jean  Claude  Marie  Vincent,   Seigneur  de. 
See  under  Daire,  Dupont  de  Nemours,  and  Turgot. 

Gray,  Asa. 

Darwiniana:    Essays   and    Reviews    pertaining    to    Darwinism.     New 
York:  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1877. 
See  pages  75,  249. 

Haeckel,  Ernst. 

Die  heutige  Entwickelungslehre  im  Verhaltnisse  zur  Gesammtwissen- 
schaft.  Vortrag  in  der  ersten  offentlichen  Sitzung  der  fiinfzigsten 
Versammlung  Deutscher  Naturforscher  und  Aertzte  zu  Miinchen 
am  18.  September  1877.  Stuttgart:  E.  Schweizerbart'sche  Ver- 
lagshandlung  (E.  Koch).  1877.  24  S.  8°. 
Cited  on  page  44. 

Hamilton,  Sir  William. 

Lectures  on  Metaphysics  and  Logic.  Edited  by  H.  L.  Mansel  and 
John  Veitch.     Edinburgh  and  London,  1859. 

Cited  on  page  20.  The  motto  used  on  page  215  is  placed 
opposite  the  title-page  of  Vol.  I  of  this  edition.  Whether  the 
language  is  entirely  his  own  or  was  borrowed  from  earlier  authors, 
I  have  not  been  able  to  learn. 

Hartley,  David. 

Observations  on  Man,  his  Frame,  his  Duty,  and  his  Expectations. 
In  two  parts:  to  which  are  now  first  added  Prayers,  and  Religious 
Meditations.  To  tlie  first  part  are  prefixed,  a  Sketch  of  the  Life 
and     Character,     and     a    Portrait,    of    the    Author.       The    Fifth 


List  of  Authors  and  their   Works.  339 

Edition.  Printed  by  Richard  Cruttwc-ll,  St.  Janies's-Strect,  Bath; 
and  sold  by  Wilkie  &  Robinson,  Pater-Noster-Row,  London 
1810.     8°. 

Cited  on  pages  20  and  25.  Hartley's  first  proposition,  so  pro- 
phetic of  the  present  status  of  psychology,  which  occurs  on 
p.  7  of  Vol.  I  of  this  edition,  is  as  follows: 

"  The  white  medullary  Substance  of  the  Brain,  spinal  Marrow, 
and  the  Nerves  proceeding  from  them,  is  the  immediate  Instru- 
ment of  Sensation  and  Motion." 

Hartmann,   Eduard  von. 

Philosophie    des    Unbewussten.      Zehnte    erweiterte    Auflage    in    drei 
Theilen.  —  Eduard  von  Hartmann's  Ausgewahlte  Werke.     Zweite 
wohlfeile  Ausgabe.     Bande  VII,  VIII,  IX.     Leipzig  :  Verlag  von 
Wilhelm  Friedrich,  K.  R.  Hofbuchhandler,  1890. 
See  pages  64,  69,  292. 

Herodotus. 

Clio. —  Harper's  Greek  and  Latin  Texts.  Herodotus.  Recensuit 
Josephus  Williams  Blakesley,  S.T.B.CoU.  SS.Trin.  apud  Cantabr. 
quondam  Socius.  New  York  :  Harper  »S:  Brothers,  P'ranklin 
Square,  1861.     Vol.  I,  pp.  1-107. 

Cited  on  page  312.  The  passage  is  part  of  a  speech  made  by 
Solon  to  Croesus.  In  this  edition  the  speech  is  put  in  quotation 
marks  as  Solon's  own  language. 

Humboldt,  Alexander. 

Memoiren  Alexander  von  Humboldt's.  2  Bjinde,  Leipzig  :  Verlag  von 
Ernst  Schafer,  i86r. 

Cited  on  pages  63-64.  I  copied  this  passage  from  Mainlander's 
Philosophie  der  Erlosung,  p.  209  (see  Mainlander,  below),  where 
it  is  simply  credited  to  Humb(>ldt's  "  Memoiren,"  without  more 
exact  reference,  and  I  have  had  difficulty  in  proving  its  authenticity. 
I  showed  it  to  a  number  of  German  scholars  none  of  whom  knew 
of  such  a  work.  Most  of  them  doubted  its  genuineness,  and  one, 
in  very  strong  language,  declared  it  a  forgery.  I  finally  wTote  to 
Dr.  Eduard  von  Hartmann,  as  one  likely  to  be  informed  in  such 
matters.  His  prompt  reply,  received  on  the  eve  of  going  to  press, 
contained  the  desired  information  as  set  forth  above. 

The  three  paragraph.s,  as  carefully  indicated  by  Hartmann,  occur 
on  the  three  pages,  365,  366,  and  367,  respectively,  of  Vol.  I,  and 
he  further  refers  me  to  pp.  306-309  of  Vol.  I,  and  to  p.  141  of 
Vol.  II,  for  other  passages  of  similar  import. 


340  List  of  Authors  and  t/iei?'-   Wo7'ks. 

HuTCHESON,  Francis. 

An  Inquiry  into  the  Original  of  our  Ideas  of  Beauty  and  Virtue.  In 
two  Treatises.     Fifth  Edition,  corrected. 

The  second  treatise  l^ears  the  subtitle  :  Concerning  Moral  Good 
and  Evil.  It  is  from  this  that  the  quotation  on  page  282  is 
made. 

Huxley,  Thomas  H. 

Administrative  Nihilism  .  An  Address  to  the  Members  of  the  Midland 
Institute,  October  9,  1871.  In  :  More  Criticisms  of  Darwin  and 
Administrative  Nihilism,  by  T.  H.  Huxley.  New  York  :  D. 
Appleton  &  Co.,  pp.  57-85. 

The  passages  quoted  on  page  292  occur  on  pp.  71  and  72  of 
this  collection  of  essays. 
The  Herring  :  A  Lecture  delivered  at  the  National  Fisheries  Exhibi- 
tion,  Norwich,  April  21,   1881.     Nature,  Vol.  XXI II,  April  28, 
1881,  p.  682. 

Cited  on  page  246. 

James,  Edmund  J. 

The  Railway  Question.  The  Report  of  the  Committee  on  Transporta- 
tion of  the  American  Economic  Association.  With  the  Paper  read 
at  the  Boston  Meeting,  May  21-25,  1887^  on  "The  Agitation  for 
Federal  Regulation  of  Railways."  Publications  of  the  American 
Economic  Association,  Vol.  II,  No.  3,  July,  1877. 
Cited  on  pages  265-266. 

Kant,  Immanuel. 

Kritik    der   reinen    Vernunft.      Herausgegeben    von    G.    Hartenstein. 
Leipzig  :  Leopold  Voss.      1868. 
Cited  on  pages  12,  15,  71. 

King,  Clarence. 

Catastrophism  and  Evolution  :  An  Address  delivered  at  the  Sheffield 
Scientific  School  at  Yale  College,  New  Haven,  June  2G,  1877. 
The  American  Naturalist,  \'ol.  XI,  Boston  :  H.  O.  Houghton  & 
Co.  New  York  :  Hurd  &  Houghton.  The  Riverside  Press, 
Cambridge,  1877.     August,  1877,  pp.  449-470. 

Mr.  King's  use  of  the  phrase  "  survival  of  the  plastic,"  mentioned 
on  page  259,  occurs  on  p.  469  of  this  volume  of  the  NaturaHst. 

I.A  Rochefoucauld,   Francois. 

Rdflexions  ou  sentences  et  maximes.  Edition  publide  par  L.  Aim^- 
Martin,  Paris,  1822. 

Cited  on  pages  155  and  163.  The  maxims  are  numl)ered  in 
all  editions,  but  the  numbers  differ  sli<rhtlv  in  the  different  ones. 


List  of  Authoj^s  and  their   Works.  341 

For  example,  M.  Aime-Martin  states  in  a  foot-note  to  pa.^e  11 
that  the  third  motto  which  I  have  placed  at  the  head  of  Chap. 
XXIV  (p.  163)  appears  as  maxim  No.  179  of  the  fourth  edition 
(which  I  have  not  seen),  and  that  La  Rochefoucauld  afterwards 
reduced  it  to  the  short  form  that  immediately  precedes  it  on  page 
163,  and  placed  it  at  the  head  of  the  entire  series  without  number, 
as  an  epigram,  obviously  designed  to  furnish  the  key-note  or 
central  idea  of  his  philosophy.     See  further  under  Pope,  below. 

Le  Conte,  Joseph. 

Scientific  Relation  of  Sociology  to  Biology.  Popular  Science  Monthly, 
Vol.  XIV,  New  York,  February,  1879,  pp.  325-336,  425-434. 
Separately  paged  reprint,  pp.  1-21. 
Cited  on  pages  240,  314. 
Relation  of  Biology  to  Sociology.  The  Berkeleyan,  Vol.  XXIII. 
Berkeley,  Cal.,  May,  1887,  p.  123.  Separately  paged  reprint, 
pp.  1-8.  * 

Cited  on  pages  221,  292. 

Lucretius. 

De  Rerum  Natura.  —  Harper's  Greek  and  Latin  Texts.  T.  Lucreti 
Cari  de  Rerum  Natura  Libri  sex.  Recognovit  Hugo  A.  I. 
Munro,  M.  A.  New  York  :  Harper  &  Brothers,  Franklin  Square, 
1861. 

Cited  on  page  51. 

LVMAN,    D.,    JUN. 

The   Moral   Sayings   of   Publius   Syrus,  a   Roman  Slave.     From  the 
Latin.     Cleveland:  L.  E.  Barnard  &  Co.,  1856.     88  pp.     8°. 
See  page  159  and  Publius  Syrus,  below. 

Macaulav,  Thomas   Babington,  Lord. 

History  of  England.  —  The  Works  of  Lord  Macaulay  complete.     Edited 
by  his  Sister  Lady  Trevelyan.     In  eight  volumes.     London  :  Long- 
mans, Green  &  Co.,  1866. 
Cited  on  page  282. 

Mainlander,   Philip. 

Die  Philosophic  der  Erlosung.     Zweite  Auflage,  Berlin :    \'erlag  von 
Theodor  Hofmann,  1879. 
Cited  on  page  59. 

Malthus,  T.   R. 

An  Essa,y  on  the  Principle  of  Population,  or  a  \' iew  of  its  Past  and 
Present   Effects  on   Human   Happiness,  with   an  Inquiry  into  our 


342  List  of  AutJiors  and  their   Works. 

Prospects  respecting  the  Future  Removal  or  Mitigation  of  the 
Evils  which  it  occasions.  Seventh  Edition.  Reeves  &  Turner, 
London,  1872. 

Cited  on  page  242. 

Maudsley,   Henry. 

Sex  in  Mind   and  in   Education.     Fortnightly  Review,   London,  Vol. 
XXI  (i\ew  Series,  Vol.  XV),  April  i,  1874,  pp.  466-483. 
Cited  on  pages  116-117. 

Mill,  John  Stuart. 

On  Liberty.     Boston  :  Tickiior  &  Fields,  1863. 

Cited  on  page  331. 
The  Subjection  of  Women.     Third  Edition.     London  :  Longmans  & 
Co.,  1870. 

Cited  on  page  174. 
Chapters  on  Socialism.     Fortnightly  Review,  Vol.  XXXI  (New  Series, 
Vol.  XXV),  1879,  PP-  217-237;  373-382;  513-530-     (See  p.  226.) 
Cited  on  page  155. 

Montaigne,  Michel  Eyquem  de. 

De  la  Physionomie.  Collection  de  Moralistes  Frangais.  Essais  de 
Montaigne,  publics  .  .  .  par  Amaury  Duval,  Tome  VI.  Paris, 
1822,  pp.  1-66. 

Cited  on  page  v. 

More,   Sir  Thomas. 

Utopia.     Translated  into  English  by  Ralph  Robinson,  1556.     Edited 
by  Edward  Arber.     English  Reprints.      London  :  Murray  &  Son, 
No.  14  (bound  with  Latimer's  Sermons,  No.  13),  1869. 
Cited  on  pages  155  and  314-315. 

Newberry,  J.   S. 

The  Cretaceous  Flora  of  North  America.     Transactions  of  the  New 
York  Academy  of  Sciences,  Vol.  V,  February,  1886,  pp.  133-137. 
The    Flora  of   the   Amboy   Clays.     Bulletin  of  the  Torrey  Botanical 
Club,  Vol.  XTII,  March,  1886,  pp.  33-37. 
See  pages  84-85. 

Nichols,   Herbert. 

The  Origin  of  Pleasure  and  Pain.  The  Philosophical  Review,  Vol.  I. 
Boston:  Ginn  &  Co.,  July  1892,  pp.  403-432;  September,  1892, 
pp.  518-534- 

See  pages  8,  21,  138-139. 


List  of  Authors  and  their   Woi'ks.  343 

Pascal,  Blaise. 

Pens^es,  Fragments  et  Lettres,  publics  pour  la  premiere  fois  conformd- 
ment  aux  manuscrits  originaux  en  grande  partie  inedits,  par  M. 
Prosper  Faug&re.  Paris  :  Andrieux,  Editeur,  Rue  Sainte-Anne, 
11,1844.     Two  vols.     8°. 

Cited  on  pages  9,  50,  63,  239,  305. 

Patten,   Simon  N. 

The  Principles  of  Rational  Taxation  :   Published  by  the  Philadelphia 
Social  Science  Association.     Read  at  a  meeting  of  the  Associa- 
tion, November  21,  1889.     25  pp.     8«>. 
Cited  at  length  on  pages  266  ff. 
The  Theory  of  Dynamic  Economics.     Publications  of  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania.       Political   Economy   and   Public    Law    Series. 
Vol.  Ill,  No.  2.     Philadelphia,  1892.      153  pp.     8=. 
See  page  120. 

Pliny  the  Younger. 

Epistolae.  —  C.  Plinii  Caecilii  Secundi  Epistolae  et  Panegyricus.  Lon- 
dini  :  ex  officina  Jacob!  &  Richardi  Tonson,  &  Johannis  Watts, 
1741. 

The  citation  on  page  51,  from  the  fifteenth  epistle,  second 
book,  occurs  on  p.  44  of  this  edition. 

Plutarch. 

Ilepi  TvxTjs  (De  Fortuna).  —  Plvtarchi  Chseronensis  Omnivm  qvae  Ex- 
stant  Operum.  Tomvs  secvndvs,  continens  Moralia,  Gulielmo 
Xylandro  interprete.  .  .  .  Francofvrti  :  In  Ofiicina  Uanielis  ac 
Dauidis  Aubriorum  &  dementis  Schleichii,  1620. 

Cited  on  page  195.  The  Greek  of  this  edition  is  printed  in 
ligatures  which  Dr.  Wm.  B.  Owen  of  Lafayette  College  kindly 
wrote  out  for  me  for  the  passage  quoted.  The  Latin  rendering  of 
this  passage  as  placed  in  the  parallel  column,  is  as  follows  :  Atqui 
nemo  terram  aqua  madefaciens  discedit  vitro  &  fortunae  opera 
lateres  inde  exituros  censens. 

Pope,  Alexander. 

Essay  on  Man.  —  The  Works  of  Alexander  Pope.  New  Edition. 
Including  several  hundred  unpublished  letters  and  other  new 
materials.  Collected  in  part  by  the  late  Rt.  Hon.  John  Wilson 
Croker,  with  introductions  and  notes.  By  Whitwell  Elwin. 
Vol.  II.  Poetry.  London:  John  Murray,  Albemarle  Street, 
1871. 

Cited  on  pages  103  and  132.  The  lines  on  ])age  103  are  not 
found  in  the  text  as  published  in  this  and  most  editions,  but  are 


344  Z/>/  of  Authors  and  their   Works. 

given  in  a  foot-note  (note  ^  to  line  216,  p.  392)  by  the  editor,  who 
says  that  they  occur  in  the  "manuscript  following  line  216." 
They  are  preceded  by  four  other  lines  which  help  to  indicate 
the  growth  of  the  thought  in  the  poet's  mind.  These  are  as 
follows  : 

"  To  strangle  in  its  birth  each  rising  crime 

Requires  but  little,  — just  to  think  in  time. 

In  ev'rj'  vice,  at  first,  in  some  degree 

We  see  some  virtue,  or  we  think  we  see. 

Our  vices  thus,"  etc. 
The  editor  then  adds  :    "  Of  the  last  couplet  there  is  a  second 
version  "  : 

"  Thus  spite  of  all  the  Frenchman's  witty  lies 

Most  vices  are  but  virtues  in  disguise." 
It  deserves  to  be  noticed  that  Pope's  adumbration  is  of  the 
truth  that  there  are  no  essentially  evil  propensities,  or  the  relativity 
of  evil;  while  La  Rochefoucauld's  adumbration  is  of  the  truth 
that  indirection  is  the  essential  quality  of  intellectual  action,  or  the 
principle  of  deception.  These  ideas  are  therefore  not  opposites 
or  inconsistent  with  each  other,  much  less  "  witty  lies,"  but  are 
fundamental  truths,  though  so  occult  and  far-reaching  that  neither 
of  the  writers  quoted  saw  them  in  their  full  relations  ;  and  Pope's 
grasp  of  his  conception  was  so  feeble  that  in  revising  his  manu- 
scripts he  seems  to  have  been  unable  to  bring  it  back  to  conscious- 
ness, and  therefore  expunged  it. 

Powell,  J.  W. 

Mythologic  Philosophy.    Address  of  Vice-President,  Section  B,  Natural 
History,  American  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science, 
28th    Meeting,  held    at  Saratoga  Springs,  N.  Y.,  August,   1879. 
Proceedings,  Vol.  XXVIII,  Salem,  1880,  pp.  251-278. 
Cited  on  page  215. 

PUBLIUS    SyRUS. 

Collection  des  Auteurs  Latins,  avec  la  Traduction  en  Frangais  ;  pub- 
li^e  sous  la  Direction  de  M.  Nisard,  de  I'Acaddmie  Frangaise, 
Inspecteur  Gdndral  de  I'Enseignement  Superieur.  Vol.  IX : 
QLuvres  Completes  d'Horace,  de  Juvenal,  de  Perse,  de  Sulpicia, 
de  Turnus,  de  Catulle,  de  Properce,  de  Gallus  et  Maximien,  de 
Tibulle,  de  Ph^dre  et  de  Syrus.  Paris  :  Chez  Firmin  Didot 
Fr^res,  Fils  et  C^e,  Libraires  Imprimeurs  de  I'lnstitut  de  France, 
rue  Jacob,  ^d.  1869.     Publius  Syrus,  pp.  759-819. 

Cited   on   page    159.     For  the  English  translation  see  Lyman, 
D.,    Jun.,    above.     The    maxims    are    not  numbered  in  Nisard's 


List  of  Authors  and  their   Works.  345 

collection,  but  Lyman  has  followed  the  same  order,  and  his  No. 
914  occurs  on  p.  807  (col.  2),  and  939  on  p.  808  (col.  2).  The 
respective  French  renderings  are  as  follows: 

914.  —  Qu'un  fou  se  taise,  il  passera  pour  un  sage. 

939.  —  Le  silence  tient  lieu  de  sagesse  au  fou. 

QUESNAY,     FRANCmS. 

Maximes  Generales  du  Gouvernement  Economique  d'un  Roj-aume 
Agricole.  In  :  Physiocratie,  ou  Constitution  Naturelle  du  Gou- 
vernement le  plus  avantageux  au  Genre  Humain.  Recueil  publid 
par  Du  Pont,  des  Societes  Royales  d'Agriculture  de  Soissons  & 
d'Orleans,  &  Correspondant  de  la  Socidte  d'Emulation  de  Londres. 
A  Leyde,  et  se  trouve  k  Paris,  chez  Merlin,  rue  de  la  Harpe,  1768. 
Vol.  I,  pp.  105-122. 

Cited  on  page  241. 

Reid,  Thomas. 

Inquiry  into  the  Human  Mind,  on  the  Principles  of  Common  Sense. 
The  Works  of  Thomas  Reid,  etc.,  with  account  of  his  Life  and 
Writings.  By  Dugald  Stewart.  With  notes,  by  the  American 
Editors.  In  four  volumes.  Vol.  I,  Charlestown,  printed  and 
published  by  Samuel  Etheridge,  Jun'r.,  181 3,  pp.  165-444. 
See  page  173. 

RicARDO,  David. 

Principles  of  Political    Economy  and  Taxation.     Edited  by  E.   C.   K. 
Conner,  London,  1891. 
Cited  on  page  242. 

SCHELLING,     FrIEDRICH    WiLHELM    JoSEPH  VON. 

Sammtliche    Werke.       In    fourteen    volumes,    8°.      Edited    by    Karl 
Friedrich    August    Schelling.      Stuttgart    und    Augsburg :     J.  G. 
Cotta'scher  Verlag,  1856-1861. 
Cited  on  page  59. 

Schopenhauer,  Arthur. 

Die  Welt  als  Wille  und  Vorstellung.  Dritte  verbesserte  und  betracht- 
lich  vermehrte  Auflage.  Leipzig:  F.  A.  Brockhaus.  1859. 
2  vols.  8°. 

In  this  work  the  relations  between  the  feelings,  clearly  recog- 
nized as  the  dynamic  agent,  and  the  intellect,  somewhat  less 
clearly  recognized  as  the  directive  agent,  are  forcibly  set  forth, 
marking,  as  it  seems  to  me,  an  epoch  in  philosophy.  I  have 
therefore  copied  freely  from  it  and  placed  the  leading  thoughts  of 
Schopenhauer  prominently  before  the  reader  in  various  mottos 
at  the  heads  of  chapters. 


346  List  of  Authors  aiid  their   Works. 

Ueber  den  Willen  in  der  Natur.  Eine  Erorterung  der  Bestattigungen, 
welche  die  Pliilosophie  des  Verfassers,  seit  ihrem  Auftreten, 
durch  die  empirisclien  Wissenschaften  erhalten  hat.  Vierte 
Auflage,  herausgegeben  von  Julius  Frauenstadt.  Leipzig :  F. 
A.  Brockhaus.  1878. 
Cited  on  page  133. 

Smith,  Adam. 

An    Inquiry  into  tlie  Nature  and  Causes  of  the  Wealth  of  Nations. 
Edited  by  James  E.  Thorold  Rogers.     Oxford,  at  the  Clarendon 
Press,  1869.     2  vols.  8°. 
Cited  on  page  241. 
Solon. 

See  Herodotus. 

Sophocles. 

Trachiniae.  —  Sophoclis  quae  exstant  Omnia  cum  Veterum  Grammati- 
corum  Scholiis.  Superstites  Tragcedias  VII.  Ad  optimorum 
exemplarium  fidem  recensuit,  versione  et  notis  illustravit,  deper- 
ditarum  fragmenta  collegit  Rich.  Franc.  Phil.  Brunck,  regias 
inscriptionum  et  humaniorum  literarum  Academise  Socius.  — ■ 
Accedunt  excerpta  ex  varietate  lectionis,  quam  continet  editio 
Caroli  Gottl.  Augusti  Erfurdt ;  Demetrii  Triclinii  scholia  metrica; 
notas  ineditae  Caroli  Burneii  ;  et  Godfr.  Henr.  Schaeferi  annotatio 
integra.  Londini  :  excudebat  A.  J.  Valpy,  A.M.  Sumtibus 
Ricardi  Priestley,  1824,  Tomus  I,  pp.  305-381. 

Cited  on  page  312.  This  passage  opens  the  Trachinias.  The 
Oxford  translation  is  as  follows:  "There  is  an  ancient  saying, 
renowned  among  men,  tliat  you  cannot  fully  judge  of  the  life  of 
mortals,  whether  it  has  been  good  or  bad  to  an  individual  before 
his  deatli."  The  Tragedies  of  Sophocles  in  English  Prose. 
Oxford  Translation,  London,  1863,  p.  203. 

Spencer,   Herbert. 

Social   Statics  :   or,  The  Conditions    Essential   to   Human   Happiness 
specified,    and    the    First    of    them    developed.      London  :    John 
Chapman,  142  Strand.      1851. 
Cited  on  page  231. 
Social  Statics,  abridged  and  revised  ;  together  with  :  The  Man  versus 
the  State.     New  York:   D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1892. 
See  pages  242,  245,  248-249. 

Mr.  Martineau  on  Evolution.     Popular  Science  Monthly,  Vol.  I,  New 
York,  July,  1872,  pp.  313-323. 
Cited  on  pages  230-231. 


List  of  Authors  and  their    Works.  347 

The  Study  of  Sociology,  New  York  :   D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1880. 

Cited  on  pages  116,  175-176. 
The  Man  versus  the  State:  Containing  "  The  New  Toryism,"  "The 
Coming  Slavery,"  "  The  Sins  of  Legislators,"  and  "  The  Great 
Political  Superstition."  Reprinted  from  The  Contemporary 
Review,  with  a  Postscript.  London  :  Williams  and  Norgate, 
1884. 

As  bound  with  Social  Statics,  abridged  and  revised  (see  last 
title  but  two,  above),  it  seems  to  be  unchanged  except  by  the 
addition    of    a    short    note.      This    series    of    papers    constitutes 
Mr.  Spencer's  most  vigorous  attack  upon  what  he  regards  as  the 
socialistic  tendencies  of  the  times,  and  defence  of  laissez  faire  or 
individualism.      See  page  242. 
First  Principles  of  a  New  System  of  Philosophy  (A  System  of  Syn- 
thetic Philosophy,  Vol.  I).      New  York  :   D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1874. 
Cited  on  page  91. 
The  Principles  of  Psychology,  in  two  volumes  (A  System  of  Synthetic 
Philosophy,  Vols.  IV,  V).      New  York  :  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1873. 
Cited  on  pages  15-16,  36,  50-51,  71. 
The  Data  of  Ethics  :  Being  Part  I  of  The  Principles  of  Ethics,  Vol.  I 
(see  below).     New  York  :   D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1879. 
Cited  on  pages  16,  103,  107. 
Justice  :   Being   Part  I\'  of  The  Principles  of  Ethics,  or  the  first  part 
of  Vol.  II  (see  below). 
See  page  242. 
The  Principles  of  Ethics,  in  two  volumes  (A  System  of  Synthetic  Phi- 
losophy, Vols.  IX,  X).     New  York  :  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  Vol.  I, 
1892;  Vol.  II,  1893. 

Cited  on  pages  162-163,  197,  238,  285.  The  last  two  of 
these  quotations  properly  belong  to  the  Data  of  Ethics,  but  they 
occur  in  the  lost  chapter  which  did  not  appear  in  the  edition  of 
1879,  and  only  first  saw  the  light  in  the  complete  volume.  The 
index  will  refer  the  reader  to  many  other  places  where  the  views 
of  Mr.  Spencer  are  discussed. 

Spinoza,  Benedict. 

Ethica.  —  Benedicti  de  Spinoza  Opera  quotquot  reperta  sunt.  Recog- 
noverunt  J.  Van  Vloten  et  J.  P.  N.  Land.  Volumen  prius.  Hagae 
Comitum,  apud  Martinum  Nijhoff.  1882.  Ethica  Ordine 
Geometrico  demonstrata,  pp.  37-278. 

The  citations  on  pages  30,  43,  50,  and  147,  occur  respectively 
on  pp.  194,  219,  203,  and  204  of  the  above  edition. 


34^  List  of  Authors  and  tJieir   Works. 

Stanley,   Hiram  M. 

On    Primitive    Consciousness.       The    Philosophical    Review,    Vol.    I, 
Boston  :  Ginn  &  Co.,  July  1892,  pp.  433-442. 
Cited  on  pages  21,  37,  138. 
On  the  Introspective  Study  of  Feeling.     Science,  Vol.  XX,  New  York, 
October  7,  1892,  pp.  203-205. 
Cited  on  page  47. 

Sully,  James. 

Pessimism  :  A  History  and  a  Criticism,  London  :  Henry  S.  King  & 
Co.,  1877. 

Cited  on  page  281.  The  word  "meliorism"  probably  first 
occurs  in  print  in  this  passage,  though  taken  directly  from  George 
Eliot's  letter  dated  Jan.  19,  1877,  which  Mr.  Cross  has  reproduced 
in  "George  Eliot's  Life,"  Vol.  Ill,  p.  267,  also  cited  by  me  on 
page  281. 

Sumner,  William  Graham, 

What  Social  Classes  Owe  to  each  other.  New  York  :  Harper  & 
Brothers,  1883. 

See  page  100,  note. 

Taylor,   Sir  Henry. 

Philip  Van  Artevelde.  A  Dramatic  Romance.  In  two  parts.  —  Works 
of  Sir  Henry  Taylor.  London  :  Henry  S.  King  &  Co.,  1877. 
Vol.  I,  Philip  Van  Artevelde. 

The  couplet  in  the  foot-note  to  page  206  occurs  on  p.  29  of  this 
volume. 

Taylor,  Jeremy. 

Deus  justificatus  ;  or  a  Vindication  of  the  Divine  Attributes,  in  the 
Question  of  Original  Sin  :  against  the  Presbyterian  way  of  under- 
standing it.  In  a  letter  to  a  Person  of  Quality.  —  The  Whole 
Works  of  the  Right  Rev.  Jeremy  Taylor,  D.D.,  Lord  Bishop  of 
Down,  Connor,  and  Dromore  :  With  a  Life  of  the  Author,  and  a 
critical  examination  of  his  writings,  by  the  Right  Rev.  Reginald 
Heber,  D.D.,  Late  Lord  Bishop  of  Calcutta.  London,  1828.  In 
fifteen  volumes.  Vol.  IX,  pp.  309-364. 
Cited  on  page  64. 

Turcot,  Anne  Robert  Jacques. 

Oeuvres  de  Mr  Turgot,  Ministre  d'Etat,  prt^cdddes  et  accompagn^es 
de  Mdmoires  et  de  Notes  sur  sa  Vie,  son  Administration  et  ses 
Ouvrages.     Paris  :  De  I'lmprimeric  de  Delance.      1808. 

Vol.  Ill  (pp.  321-375)  contains  the  "  Eloge  de  M.  de  Gournay." 
On  page  370  occurs  a  passage  in  which  it  is  intimated  that  the 


List  of  Authors  and  their    Works.  349 

phrase  laisscc /aire,  used  in  the  economic  sense,  and  universal! v 
ascribed  to  de  Gournay,  usually  coupled  with  the  companion  phrase 
latssez  passer,  may  have  had  an  earlier  origin  in  some  form,  as  he 
seems  to  affiliate  these  expressions  upon  what  he  refers  to  as  "  le 
mot  de  AI.  Gendre  .\  M.  Colbert,  laissons-nous  faire.''''  In  another 
article  in  the  same  volume  (pp.  309-320)  entitled  :  Sur  les  Econo- 
mistes,  Turgot  says  (p.  31 1)  of  de  Gournay  :  "  II  en  conclut  qu'il 
ne  fallait  jamais  rangonner  ni  rdglementer  le  commerce.  II  en  tira 
cet  axiome  :  Laissez  faire  et  laissez  passer^ 
See  page  241. 

Voltaire,  Franoms  Marie  Arouet  de. 

Le  Chapon  et  la  Poularde.  Dialogue  XIV.  —  Oeuvres  completes  de 
Voltaire  (in  seventy  volumes).  Paris :  De  I'lmprimerie  de  la 
Socidte  Litteraire  Typographique,  1 784-1 789.  Tome  trente- 
sixieme.     Dialogues  et  Entretiens  Philosophiques,  pp.  95-101. 

Cited  on  page  159.  The  passage  occurs  on  p.  100  of  Vol. 
XXXVI  of  this  edition  of  Voltaire's  works,  and  is  applied  by  the 
"Chapon"  to  men,  "  ces  monstres  nos  eternels  ennemis,"  whose 
manifold  inconsistencies  and  hypocricies  were  under  discussion. 

The  saying  that  language  was  given  us  to  conceal  our  thoughts 
is  commonly  ascribed  to  Talleyrand,  but  as  he  was  born  in  1754 
and  this  dialogue  was  written  in  1 766  it  must  antedate  any  utter- 
ance of  the  former.  Moreover,  In  The  Bee  of  Oct.  20,  1759, 
Goldsmith  wrote  :  "  The  true  use  of  speech  is  not  so  much  to 
express  our  wants  as  to  conceal  them  "  ;  and  in  one  of  the  ser- 
mons of  Robert  South  (1676)  occurs  the  following  sentence: 
"  Speech  was  given  to  the  ordinary  sort  of  men  whereby  to  com- 
municate their  mind  ;  but  to  wise  men  whereby  to  conceal  it." 

Ward,  Lester  F. 

The  Local  Distribution  of  Plants  and  the  Theory  of  Adaptation. 
Popular  Science  Monthly,  Vol.  IX,  New  York,  October,  1876, 
pp.  676-684. 

See  page  261. 
The    Relation    between    Insects    and    Plants,    and    the    Consensus    in 
Animal  and  Vegetable  Life.     The  American  Entomologist,  Vol. 
Ill   (New  Series,  Vol.   I),    New  York,   March,   1880,  pp.  63-67; 
April,  1880,  pp.  87-91. 
See  page  48. 
Politico- Social    Functions.     Penn    Monthly,  Vol.    XII,    Philadelphia, 
May,  1 88 1,  pp.  321-336. 
Cited  on  page  313. 


350  List  of  A7ttho7's  and  their   Works. 

What  Mr.  Ward  was  ready  to  say.  —  Herbert  Spencer  on  the  Amer- 
icans and  the  Americans  on  Herbert  Spencer.  Being  a  Full 
Report  of  his  Interview,  and  of  the  Proceedings  at  the  Farewell 
Banquet  of  November  9,  1882.     New  York  :   D.  Appleton  &  Co., 

1883,  pp.  76-79- 
Cited  on  page  314. 

Dynamic  Sociology  or  Applied  Social  Science,  as  based  upon  Statical 
Sociology  and  the  Less  Complex  Sciences.  New  York  :  D.  Ap- 
pleton &  Co.,  1883.     2  vols.     8°. 

Cited  at  the  heads  of  nearly  all  the  Chapters  and  Parts,  and 
constituting  the  system  of  philosophy  for  which  the  present  work 
aims  to  supply  certain  deficiencies  and  to  indicate  some  of  the 
applications. 

Prof.  Sumner's  'Social  Classes.'     Man,  \'ol.  W ,  New  York,  March  i, 

1884.  A  review  of   Prof.   Sumner's   book   in   a  rather  sarcastic 
vein,  published  anonymously. 

Cited  on  pages  100-101. 
Broadening  the  Way  to   Success.     The  Forum,  \'ol.   II,   New  York, 
December,  1886,  pp.  340-350. 
See  page  261. 

False   Notions  of   Government.     The    Forum,    \'ol.    Ill,    New  York, 
June,  1887,  pp.  364-372. 
Cited  on  page  329. 

What  Shall  the  Public  Schools  Teach }     The   Forum,  Vol.  V,  New 
York,  July,  1888,  pp.  574-583. 
Cited  on  page  196. 

Our  Better  Halves.  The  Forum,  \'ol.  VI,  New  York,  November, 
1888,  pp.  266-275. 

The  principle  oi  female  superiority,  or  the  law  tliat,  biologically 
considered,  the  female  is  the  primary  sex  and  the  male  only  sec- 
ondary or  accessory,  was  first  set  forth  in  this  paper.  It  resulted 
from  some  quasi-humorous,  postprandial  remarks  at  the  Six  o'clock 
Club,  at  Willard's  Hotel,  Washington,  on  April  26,  ~i888.  These 
remarks  were  briefly  reported  for  the  St.  Louis  Globe,  but,  inad- 
vertently or  otherwise,  were  credited  to  Prof.  C.  V.  Riley.  I  have 
only  seen  this  item  as  copied  from  the  Globe  by  the  Household 
Companion  (Boston,  June,  1888).  It  is  but  just  to  Prof.  Riley  to 
say  that  he  admits  the  error  and  waives  all  claim  to  the  idea,  and 
also  that  he  concedes  that  the  principle  is  sustained  by  the  facts 
of  entomology.  This  principle  is  considered  in  Chap.  XIV  of  the 
present  work,  pages  86,  87. 


List  of  A  lit  hoi's  and  their   Works.  351 

Genius  and  Woman's  Intuition.  The  Forum,  Vol.  IX,  New  York, 
June,  1890,  pp.  401-408. 

The  article  last  mentioned  was  replied  to  by  Mr.  Grant  Allen 
in  the  same  maj^azine  for  May,  1889,  to  which  the  article  now 
under  consideration  was  a  counter-reply.  Some  portions  of 
it  are  used  with  certain  alterations  in  Chap.  XXVI,  pages  174- 
175. 

Some  Social  and  Economic  Paradoxes.     The  American  Anthropolo- 
gist, Vol.  II,  Washington,  April,  1889,  pp.  1 19-132. 
See  page  277. 

The  Course  of  Biologic  Evolution.  Annual  Address  of  the  President 
of  the  Biological  Society  of  Washington,  delivered  January  25, 

1890.  Proceedings,  Vol.  V,  pp.  23-55.     Separately  paged  reprint, 

PP-  1-33- 

See  pages  44,  48. 

Neo-Darwinism  and  Neo-Lamarckism.  Annual  Address  of  the 
President  of  the  Biological  Society  of  Washington,  delivered 
January  24,  1891.  Proceedings,  Vol.  VI,  Washington,  1891, 
pp.  11-71. 

See  page  221. 

The  Transmission  of  Culture.     The  Forum,  Vol.  XI,  New  York,  May, 

1891,  pp.  312-319- 

See  pages  214-215,  221. 

Weismann's    New  Essays.       Public  Opinion,  Vol.   XIII,  Washington 
and  New  York,  September  10,  1892,  p.  559, 
See  page  221. 

The  Psychologic  Basis  of  Social  Economics.  Address  of  the  Vice- 
President  of  Section  I,  Economic  Science  and  Statistics,  of  the 
American  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science,  delivered 
at  Rochester,  N.  Y.,  August  17,  1892.  Proceedings,  Vol.  XLI, 
Salem,  1892,  pp.  301-321. 

See  page  254.  A  somewhat  further  condensation  was  published 
under  the  same  title  in  the  Annals  of  the  American  Academy  of 
Political  and  Social  Science,  Vol.  Ill,  Philadelphia,  January,  1893, 
pp.  72-90.     Publications  of  the  Academy,  No.  TJ. 

Weismann,  August, 

Essays  upon  Heredity  and  Kindred  Biological  Problems.  Authorized 
Translation.  Vol.  I,  edited  by  Edward  B.  Poulton,  Selmar 
Schonland,  and  Arthur  E.  Shipley.  Oxford,  at  the  Clarendon 
Press,  1889.  Vol.  II,  edited  by  Edward  B.  Poulton  and  Arthur 
E.  Shipley,  Oxford,  1892. 


352  List  of  AutJiors  and  their   Woi'ks.    ' 

The  Germ-Plasm,  a  Theory  of  Heredity.  Translated  by  W.  Newton 
Parker  and  Harriet  Ronnfeldt,  with  twenty-four  illustrations. 
New  York,  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,   1893. 

P^or  the  numerous  references  to  Weismann's  views  see  especially 
pages  26,  38,  41,  86,  220,  221,  245. 

Whately,  Richard. 

Elements  of  Logic,  reprinted  from  the  Ninth  (Octavo)  Edition.     Louis- 
ville, Ky. :  Morton  &  Griswold,  1854. 
Cited  on  page  171. 

VOUMANS,    E.    L. 

The  Centennial  Anniversary  of   the  Discovery  of  Oxygen.     Popular 
Science  Monthly,  Vol.  V,  New  York,  August,   1874,  PP-  493-497- 
Cited  on  page  248. 


I  N  D  E  X 


About,  Edmond,  333. 

— ,  — ,  cited,  222,  233,  240. 

Abstract  reasoning,  220. 

Acquired  characters,  Transmission  of, 

220,  221. 
Acquisition,   Modes  of,   157,   167,   16S, 

2,^7- 

Acquisitiveness,  156,  157. 

Acracy,  319. 

Action,  Dynamic,  vi. 

— ,  Voluntary,  30. 

— ,  Reflex,  31. 

— ,  Rational,  t^t,. 

— ,  Restraints  to,  51. 

— ,  Relations  of,   to  feeling  and  func- 
tion, 79. 

— ,  Society  the  beneficiary  of,  79. 

—  in  the  animal  world,  84. 

— ,  Transformations    wrought    by    hu- 
man, 90,  98,  129. 
— ,  Social,  96,  97,  103,  104. 
— ,  — ,  necessary,  288. 

—  vs.  friction,  103. 

Activity,  Advantage  of  persistent,  142. 
Adaptation,  244. 

—  supposed  to  be  perfect,  245. 
— ,  Cause  of,  245. 

— ,  Means  of,  not  economical,  246. 
Addison,  Joseph,  333. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  175. 
Administrative  nihilism,  292. 
Adumbrations,  Philosophic,  vi,  116, 117. 
Advantage,  Principle  of,  137,  139,  141. 
Advertisements,  273. 
Affections,  Enumeration  of  the,  5,  53. 
Affective  phenomena.  Complex  nature 

of,  S3- 
Afferent  and  efferent  nerves,  30. 
Aggregates,  Social,  294. 


Aggressive  competition.  See  Compe- 
tition. 

Agricultural  stage,  1S6. 

Alexandrian  school,  Cosmology  of 
the,  9. 

Allen,  Grant,  t^t,i,  351. 

— ,  — ,  cited,  247,  248. 

Alms-giving,  Politico-economic  mean- 
ing of,  1 10. 

Altruism,  238. 

Ambition,  53,  159. 

Anachronism,  The  social,  289. 

Anarchism,  319. 

Anaximander,  9. 

Animal  economists,  241,  242. 

—  economics,  244. 
Animals,  Esthetic  taste  in,  88. 
— ,  Intellect  in,  149,  150. 

— ,  Sagacity  of,  152. 

— ,  Inventive  faculty  not  developed  in, 

184. 
— ,  Domestication  or  taming  of,  186. 
Anschauung.  146,  148. 
Anthropomorphic  conceptions,  217, 
Anthropus,  89. 

Antoninus,  Moral  maxims  of,  185. 
Appetence,  53. 
Aquatic  animals,  why  first   developed, 

182. 
Aquinas,  Thomas,  10. 
Archimedes,  235. 
Architecture,  211. 
Argenson,     Marc     Pierre,   Marquis    d', 

241,  i,i>z^  336,  zyi- 

Aristocracy,  317. 

Aristotle,  9,  10,  13. 

Art,  Essential  nature  of,  vi,  135,  181. 

—  of  speech  and  silence,  159,  349. 
— ,  Origin  of,  199. 


154 


Index, 


Art,  ]'2sthetic,  20S,  211. 

— ,  —  or  fine,   vs.   practical   or  useful, 

21 1. 
— ,  Dependence  of  man  upon,  2 58. 
Artificial,    Superiority    of    the,    to    the 

natural,  vi,  286. 
— ,  Definition  of  the,  286. 
Asceticism,  Answer  to,  40. 
— ,  Fallacy  of,  42. 
Assertion  of  the  will  to  live,  61. 
Assyria,  Cosmology  of,  9. 
Attraction,  Psychic,  145. 
Attractive  legislation,  306. 
Autocracy,  317. 

Bacon,  Francis,  10,  122,  333. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  190,  196-197. 
Bain,  Alexander,  4,  43. 
Bartas,  See  Die  Bartas. 
Beccaria,  Cesare,  334. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  282. 
Bees,  Drone,  87. 
— ,  Government  of,  238. 
Bentham,  Jeremy,  334. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  282. 
Berkeley,  Bishop,  10,  13. 
Biologic  and  psychic  development  not 
parallel,  144. 

—  law,  16S,  250,  251. 

,  opposed  by  the  law  of  mind,  200, 

201,  259,  280. 
Biological  utility,  76. 

—  economics,  135,  168,  244,  250,  251. 

—  origin  of  mind,  138,  139. 

—  dynamics,  168. 

—  school  of  economists,  168. 
Biology,  Transcendental,  242. 
Birds,  Influence  of,  on  plants,  85. 
— ,  Male  supremacy  in,  87,  88. 
Bisexuality,  Origin  of,  86. 
Blainville,  yj. 

lionasa  umbellus,  149. 
Bourdillon,  Francis  W.,  334. 

— , ,  cited,  44. 

Brahmins,  Moral  maxims  of  the,  105. 
Brain    of   woman,     Small    size   of    ex- 
plained, 89. 


Brain  as  a  secondary  sexual  character, 
89,  150. 

—  the  chief  human  characteristic,  137. 
-^,  Natural  development  of,  154. 

—  as  an  emotional  center,  213. 

—  primarily  an  engine   of  competition, 

263. 
Brain-centers,  Directive,  142,  145. 
Brooks,  W.  K.,  334. 

— , ,  cited,  169,  174. 

Brown,  Thomas,  10. 

Brute  force,  140,  141. 

Biittikofer,  J.,  334. 

— ,  — ,  cited,  255. 

Business,  157. 

Byron,  334. 

— ,  cited,  v,  64,  163,  215. 

Cairnes,  J.  E.,  335. 

— , ,  cited,  291-292. 

Canis  latrans,  152. 

Capital  and  labor,  264. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  335. 

— ,  — ,  cited,  208. 

Carpenter,  W.  B.,  335. 

— , ,  cited,  12,  15,  171. 

Causation  the  first  principle  to  be  per- 
ceived by  the  intellect,  216. 

Causes,  The  universal  search  for,  223. 

— ,  Different  kinds  of,  231. 

Caution,  Characteristic,  of  woman,  176. 

Central  Americans,  Untruthfulness  of 
the,  164. 

Cephalization,  127,  128,  151. 

Cereals,  First  appearance  of,  49. 

Cerebration  always  attended  with  feel- 
ing, 226. 

— ,  Unconscious,  226. 

Cerebro-spinal  nervous  system,  23,  24. 

Certainty,  Biologic  principle  of  neces- 
sity for,  or  paramount  importance 
of,  250. 

Chances,  Biologic  law  of  the  multipli- 
cation of,  250. 

Character  not  improved  by  ethical 
teaching,  106. 

— ,  Tests  of,  166. 


Index. 


355 


Character  brought  out  by  hardship  and 

adversity,  i66,  167. 
Charity,    Sociological    significance    of, 

109. 
— ,  Scientific  objection  to,  110. 
Chimpanzee,     Alleged    intelligence    of 

the.  254. 
China,  Cosmology  of,  9. 
Cicero  on  immortality,  45. 
Ciliata,  315. 

Civilization,  Subjective  factors  of,  7. 
— ,  Essential  principle  of,  96,  99,  189. 
— ,  Objective  factors  of,  131. 
— ,  Stages  in,  186. 
— ,  Definitions  of,  189,  259. 

—  artificial,  200. 

— ,  Material,  progressive,  201. 

— ,  Social  synthesis  of  the  factors  of, 

—  not    necessarily   synonymous    with 

social  progress,  2S7. 
Clark,  J.  B..  335. 

— , ,  cited,  117,  199,  240. 

Clarke,  F.  W.,  on  the  nature  of  odors, 

18,  19,  335. 
Clothing  and  shelter,  187. 
Code  of  ethics  self-executing,  102,  107, 

108. 
Coenobium,  Society  compared  to  a,  315. 
Cognition,  25,  137. 
Coke,  Sir  Edward,  335. 

— , ,  cited,  276. 

Combination  vs.  competition,  264. 

Committee  legislation,  310. 

Common  sense  a  more  reliable  guide 

than  reason,  43. 
equivalent  to  intuitive  judgment, 

173- 
Communication,  Oral  and  written,  236. 
Competition,  Law  of,  168,  260. 

—  vs.  cooperation,  239. 

—  does  not  secure  the  survival  of  the 

fittest,  260. 
— ,  The  struggle  with,  261. 
— ,  means  by  which  man  has  combated 

it.  262,  289. 

—  modified  by  reason,  263. 


Competition  in  society  ephemeral,  264. 

— ,  aggressive,  Professor  Patten  on,  266 
-271. 

— ,  — ,  Influences  conducive  to,  272. 

— ,  — ,  a  normal  result  of  the  mind 
element,  272,  273. 

— ,  — ,  an  embodiment  of  business 
shrewdness,  273. 

— ,  Free,  scarcely  possible  in  society, 
274. 

—  vs.  emulation,  275. 

— ,  Social,  only  possible  through  regu- 
lation, 275. 

— ,  Remedy  for  the  evils  of,  276. 

Comte,  Auguste,  60,  107,  i2r,  122,  123, 
242,  336. 

— )  — )  Cited,  iv,  i,  37,  190,  194,  240. 

Conation,  54. 

— ,  Indirect   method    of,    vi,   138,    190, 

235- 

— ,  Direct  method  of,  140,  1S2,  302. 

Conative  faculty,  30,  282. 

Concealment,  Habitual,  of  desires  and 
emotions,  165,  349. 

Concept,  26. 

Conception,  26,  126,  137. 

Conduct  a  negative  term,  102-104. 

— ,  .Supererogatory,  108. 

Confucius,  105. 

Consciousness,  Degrees  of,  32,  226. 

— ,  Intellect  not  to  be  confounded  with, 
226. 

— ,  -Social,  291,  315. 

— ,  Ambiguity  of  the  word,  292. 

— ,  how  used  by  Schopenhauer  and 
Hartmann,  292,  293. 

— ,  Definitions  of,  29S. 

Conservatism  of  women,  174,  177,  178, 
194. 

— ,  Religious,  opposed  to  invention,  194. 

Contentment  distinguished  from  happi- 
ness, 72. 

Continuity  of  the  germ-plasm,  38. 

Contrivances  of  animals,  etc.,  185. 

Conviction,  33. 

Cooperation,  239,  264. 

Copernicus,  10. 


356 


Index. 


"Cornering"  the  market,  167,  241,  242, 

265. 
Corporations,  265. 
Cosmas  Indicopleustes,  9. 
Cosmic  epochs,  133,  135,  136. 
Cosmologies,  9. 
Cosmology    and    psychology    the    two 

principal  fields  of  philosophy,  9. 
— ,  Theological  and  rational,  217. 
Courage  as  a  male  trait,  180. 
Creation,  Artistic,  126. 
— ,  — ,  an  outgrowth  of  invention,  212. 
Creative  faculty,  28,  126,  137,  210. 
,  Origin  and  genesis  of  the,  210. 

—  genius,  208. 

Credulity  a  product  of  optimism,  166. 

Croesus,  339. 

Cross  fertilization,  81. 

Cross,  J.  W.,  336,  337. 

— , ,  cited,  281. 

Cunning,  29,  128,  148. 
— ,  Synonyms  of,  153. 

Daire,  Eugene,  336,  337,  338. 

Darwin,   Charles,    121,    134,    150,   223, 

244,  246,  280,  336. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  246-247. 
— ,  Francis,  336. 
"Deals,"  Railroad,  168,  265. 
Death  not  necessary,  38. 
Deception,   Principle  of,   155,  159,  162, 

344- 

- — , ,  etymological  proofs,  163. 

■ —  the  key  to  success,  T63,  164. 

• — ,  The  vocabulary  of,  163,  167. 

. —   in  animals,  164. 

■ —   the  essential  method    of    the   intel- 
lect, 164,  165. 

—  a  means  of  self-protection,  165. 
— ,  Social  life  favorable  to,  166,  167. 
— ,  Forms  of,  167. 

—  not  involved  in  intuitive  judgment, 

179. 
De  Foe,  258. 

Degeneracy,  End  accomplished  by,  76. 
Democracy,  316,  317. 
Democritus,  9. 


Demogogy,  160. 
Denial  of  the  will  to  live,  213. 
Derivative  faculties,  137,  209,  215. 
Descartes,  10,  13,  67,  21S. 
Desire,  Philosophy  of,  50. 

—  presupposes  memory,  50,  52. 

— ,  The  word,  used  in  a  generic  sense, 

52. 
— ,  The  various  manifestations  of,  53. 

—  a  form  of  pain,  54. 

—  always  seeks  satisfaction,  55. 

—  the  mainspring  of  all  action,  55.    - 

—  a  true  natural  force,  55,  94,  233. 

—  distinguished  from   other  forms  of 

pain,  56. 

—  compared  to  itching,  57. 

— ,  Consequences  of  satisfying,  58. 

—  blind,  61,  233. 

— ,  Psychologic  explanation  of,  127,  128. 

— ,  Obstacles  to  the  satisfaction  of,  141. 

— ,  Habitual  effort  to  conceal,  165. 

Desires,  Man  a  theater  of,  52. 

— ,  their  satisfaction  is  their  termina- 
tion, 55,  65. 

— ,  how  they  may  be  changed,  55,  65. 

— ,  Expansion  of,  in  the  social  state,  1 58. 

De  Tocqueville,  230. 

Development,  Organic,  82. 

— ,  Extra-normal,  82,  83. 

— ,  Psychic  and  biologic,  not  parallel, 
144. 

— ,  Genetic,  245,  253. 

Devices,  Artificial,  185. 

Ding  an  sich,  61. 

Diogenes  Laertius,  336. 

,  cited,  147,  336. 

Dionaea  muscipula,  185. 

Diplomacy,  160,  306. 

Direct  method  of  conation,  140, 182,302. 

Directive  agent,  vi,  231,  345. 

—  element  in  society,  vi,  5,  231. 

—  faculty,  Development  of  the,  141,  1S3. 

—  brain-centers,  142,  145. 
Discoveries,  The  great  progressive,  188. 
Discovery,  Scientific,  distinguished  from 

invention,  202, 
— ,  — ,  always  useful,  203. 


Index. 


!57 


Diseases,    Differences   in,   as   affecting 

happiness,  72. 
Disraeli,  Benjamin,  337. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  64. 
Domestication  of  animals,  186. 
Doris,  246,  247. 
Dred  Scott  decision,  173. 
Drone  bees,  87. 
Du  Bartas,  337. 

,  cited,  238. 

Du  Bois-Reymond,  Emil,  337. 

,  — ,  cited,  132. 

Du  Chaillu,  254. 
Duns  Scotus,  10. 
Dupont  de  Nemours,  336,  337,  338. 

,  cited,  241. 

Dynamic   Sociology  (the  book),  iv,  vi, 

118. 

—  sociology  (the  principle)  defined,  2. 

,  Adumbrations  of,  116,  117,  122. 

,  where    needing    to    be   strength- 
ened, I  ig. 

,  Psychologic  basis  of,  12©,  130. 

,  Popular  recognition  of,  122. 

distinct    from    dynamic    biology, 

135- 

—  action,  vi. 

—  element  in  society,  vi,  5,  230,  231,  233. 

—  agents.  91,  230,  233,  345. 

— ,  Use  of  the  term,  in  the  sciences,  1 20, 

—  biology,  135. 
Dynamics,  Social,  i. 

—  of  mind,  91,  230,  233. 

East    African    slaves,    why    untruthful, 

165. 
Eckerman,  Johann  Peter,  63,  337,  33S. 
Economic  parado.xes,  277-279. 
Economics,    Biological,    135,    16S,   244, 

250,  251. 

—  of  nature,  239,  250,  251,  256. 
— ,  Animal,  244. 

— ,  Psychological,  244,  277. 

— ,  Human,  256. 

— ,  — ,  Superiority  of,  257. 

— ,  social.  Psychologic  basis  of,  277. 

Economists,  The  animal,  241,  242. 


P'conomy  of  nature  and  mind,  239. 

— ,  Natural,  245. 

— ,  Man  alone  employs  a  true,  256. 

Education,  Argument  for,  308. 

— •,  Definition  of,  316. 

Efferent  and  afferent  nerves,  30. 

Ego,  Nature  of  the,  32. 

Egotism  of  ethical  teachers,  107. 

Egypt,  Cosmology  of,  9. 

I'^lasticity,  Utilization  of,  188. 

Electricity,  The  psychic  force  compared 

to,  95. 
— ,  Possibilities  of,  18S. 
Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  122. 
Emotional  sense,  22,  126,  127. 
Emotions,  22. 

— ,  Habitual  concealment  of,  165. 
Emulation  vs.  competition,  275. 
Ends,  Substitution  of  means  for,   145, 

234.  235. 
Energy,  social,  Liberation  of,  114. 
Ennui,  53. 
Enviroimient    transforms    the    animal, 

but  is  transformed  by  man,  257. 
— ,  The  organic,  259. 
Epistemology,  13. 
Epochs,  Cosmic,  133,  135,  136. 
Esthetic  faculty.  Origin  of  the,  48,  88, 

156. 

in  animals,  88. 

as  a  part  of  the  will,  213. 

—  art,  208,  211. 

—  pleasure,  213. 

Ethical    and    sociological    standpoints 

opposite,  III. 
l{!thics,  Code  of,  self-e.xecuting,  102,  107, 
loS. 

—  defined  by  Spencer,  103. 

—  a  department  of  sociology,  104. 
— ,  Restricted  field  of,  104. 

— ,  Exaggeration  of,  104,  105,  107,  iii. 
— ,  No  scientific  basis  of,  105. 

—  should  only  be  taught  historically, 

106. 
— ,  Superficial  treatment  of,  ill. 

—  deals  with  a  transitional  stage,  iii, 

1 12. 


O0< 


Index. 


Ethics  self-destructive,  114. 

• —  of  Herbert  Spencer,  182. 

Evil,  Origin  of,  37,  40,  41. 

— ,  Relativity  of,  114,  307,  344. 

Evolution  a  means,  not  an  end,  75. 

— ,  Subjective  and  objective,  83, 

— ,  Object  of,  129. 

— ,  True  cause  of  organic,  140,  141. 

—  as  a  product  of  mind,  230,  231. 
— ,  The  optimistic  view  of,  2S3. 
Evolutionary  teleology,  75. 
Exaggeration  of  irregularities,  Lawr  of, 

252. 

Executive  branch.  Legislation  by  the, 
310. 

Experience  as  a  form  of  knowledge, 
228. 

Exploration,  Stage  of,  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  intellect,  143. 

Extinct  and  waning  types,  252,  253. 

Extra-normal  development,  82,  83. 

Factors  of  civilization,  Suljjective,  7. 

,  Objective,  131. 

,  Social  synthesis  of  the,  237. 

Faculties,  Derivative,  137,  209,  215. 
— ,  Non-advantageous,  215. 
Feeling  vs.  function,  vi,  75,  76,  78. 

and  action,  75. 

— ,  Sense  of,  18,  19. 

—  subjectively  subjective,  20. 

—  a  pain-sense,  21. 

—  a  means  of  warning,  39. 

—  regarded  as  unworthy,  47. 

— -  a  condition  to  the  existence  of 
plastic  organisms,  75,  305. 

— ,  Dignity  and  antiquity  of,  93. 

— ,  Importance  of,  93,  305. 

— ,  Thought  necessarily  attended  with, 
226. 

Feelings  not  regarded  as  a  part  of 
mind,  3. 

— ,  Biological  origin  of  the,  8. 

— ,  Neglect  of  the,  by  psychologists,  47. 

Fees,  waiters,  etc.,  Politico -economic 
meaning  of,  no. 

Feigning  of  animals,  151. 


Female  superiority,  86,  87,  350. 

—  sex  primary  and  male  secondary,  86, 

87.  350- 
,  Brain  exercise  by  the,  151. 

—  intuition,  174,  180. 
,  Purpose  of,  175. 

—  mind,  Characteristics  of  the,  174,  177,. 

179,  194. 

—  trunk  of  the  intellect,  179,  208. 
Fichte,  10. 

Fine  arts  distinguished  from  the  prac- 
tical, 211. 
Fishes,  Female  superiority  in,  87. 
Flagellata,  315. 
Flowers,  Origin  of,  48,  84. 

—  in  the  Lower  Cretaceous,  84,  85. 
Fontaine,  Wm.  M.,  85. 

Force,  Psychic,  94,  95. 

— ,  Brute,  140,  141. 

Forces  the  test  of  a  true  science,  i,  91. 

— ,  Social.     See  Social  Forces. 

Foresight,  156,  184. 

Fox,  Cunning  of  the,  148,  150,  164. 

Freedmen  of  the  South,  165. 

Friction,  Social,  102,  288,  309. 

—  vs.  action,  103,  104. 

Frog,  Experiments  on  the  brain  of  the, 

143- 

Fruits,  Origin  of,  49,  85. 
P^ull  intuition.  Stage  of,  144. 
Function.    See  Feeling. 

Galapagos,    Tameness    of    animals   on 

the,  144. 
Galileo,  10,  218. 
Galvani,  203. 

Game,  Effect  of  man  on,  144,  145. 
Ganglionic  centers.  Hierarchy  of,  32. 
Generalization,  27. 
Genetic  vs.  teleological  processes,  vi. 

—  development,  245,  253. 

of  the  intellect,  141,  224,  305. 

Genius,  Inventive,  196. 

— ,  Implications  of  the  term,  198. 

— ,  Creative,  208. 

■ — ,  Speculative,  214. 

Genlisea  ornata,  185. 


Index. 


159 


Geological  development  of  the  soul,  48. 

George  Eliot,  281,  336,  337. 

— ■  — ,  cited,  281. 

German  school  of  philosophy,  10. 

Germ-plasm,  Continuity  of  the,  38. 

Germs,  Immortal,  38. 

Goethe,  122,  337,  338. 

— ,  cited,  63. 

Golden  rule,  105. 

Goldscheider  on  pain  nerves,  21. 

Goldsmith,  Oliver,  338,  349. 

— ,  — ,  cited,  51,  349. 

Gorilla,  255. 

Gournay,  241,  336,  T^yj,  33S,  348,  349. 

Government  of  bees,  238. 

— ,  Origin  of,  284. 

— ,  Benefits  of,  285. 

—  a  universal  or  complete  social  aggre- 

gate, 295. 
— ,  Who  constitute  a?  296. 

—  the   organ  of  social  consciousness, 

297. 

—  always  more  or  less  representative, 

300,  301. 

— ,  Powers  of,  derived  from  the  will, 
not  the  "  consent "  of  the  gov- 
erned, 300,  304. 

- — ,  Functions  of,  302. 

— ,  Forms  of,  316,  317. 

—  as  a  mode  of  acquisition,  317. 

— ,  Popular  fear  and  distrust  of,  317. 

— ,  A  people's,  329. 

— ,  Limitation  of  the  functions  of.    See 

laissez  faire. 
Governmental  failures,  301,  302. 
Governments,    Modern,    responsive    to 

the  social  will,  303. 
— ,  — ,  Weakness  of,  321. 
• —  all  empirical,  316. 
Gravitation,  Utilization  of  the  law  of, 

1 88. 
Gray,  Asa,  75,  338. 
— ,  • — ,  cited,  249. 

Greatest  happiness  problem,  74,  282. 
Greece,  Cosmologies  of,  9. 
Grouse,  Pinnated,  145,  149. 
— ,  Ruffed,  149. 


Gullibility  of  the  pulilic,  158,  166. 
Gunpowder,  Invention  of,  188. 

Ilaeckel,  Ernst,  349,  338. 

— ,  — ,  cited,  44. 

Hallucination,  65. 

Hamilton,  Sir  William,  10,  338. 

— , ,  cited,  20,  215. 

Happiness,  71. 

— ,  Existence  of,  requires  proof,  66. 

—  not  essentially  different  from  plea- 

sure, 71. 
— ■  defined,  71. 
— ,  Conditions  to,  72,  73,  74. 
— ,  Effects  of  different  diseases  on,  72. 
— ,  Problem  of  greatest,  74,  282. 
— ,  Organization  of,  308. 
Hartley,  David,  338,  339. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  20,  25,  339. 
Hartmann,  Eduard  von,  64,  69,  292,  339. 
Hawks,  Female  superiority  in,  %■]. 
Head  of  nature,  93. 
Health,  72,  73. 
Hearing,  Sense  of,  19. 
Heart  of  nature,  92. 
Hegel,  10. 
Herodotus,  339. 
— ,  cited,  312. 
Herring,  Fecundity  of,  246. 
Hillel,  105. 
History,  Proper  subject  of,  97. 

—  as  an  aid  to  the  legislator,  311. 
Hobbes,  10,  122. 

Homogeneity,    social.    Importance    of, 

301. 
Human  form  not  necessary  to  a  rational 

being,  136. 

—  nature.  Prevailing  ignorance  of,  158. 

,  Apparent  baseness  of,  166. 

not  essentially  bad,  289,  290. 

,  Meliorism  and  sociocracy  require 

no  change  in,  289,  308,  328. 
Humboldt,  Alexander,  339. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  63-64. 
Humbug,  Love  of,  158. 
Hume,  10,  13,  60. 
Hunger,  40,  53. 


i6o 


Index. 


Hunger,  Pangs  of,  40,  54. 
Hunting  stage,  186. 
Hutcheson,  David,  2)ZZ- 
— ,  Francis,  340. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  282. 
Huxley,  T.  H.,  340. 
— , ,  cited,  246,  292. 

Idea,  The  Platonic,  13,  27. 
— ,  Society  an,  99. 
Ideal,  Absorption  in  the,  213. 
Idealism,  13,  60,  224. 
Ideation.  34. 

—  always  involves  feeling,  226. 
Ideo-motor  apparatus,  30,  ^i},. 
Illegitimate  agencies  in  biology,  82,  S3, 

84,  88,  89. 
Imagination,  28,  126,  137,  210. 
Imitative  instincts,  253. 
Immorality,  108. 

—  of  intellectual  action,  182. 
Immortal  germs,  38. 
Immortality,  45. 
Inadaptation,  Social,  100. 
Incipient  intuition,  143. 

—  intellect,  146,  224. 
India,  Cosmology  of,  9. 
Indifferent  sensations,  16,  39. 
Indirect  method    of   conation,  vi,  138, 

190,  235. 
Indirection,  153,  344. 
Individualism,  99,  100,  loi,  319,  347. 
Industrial  activity,  Origin  of,  157. 

—  party  in  America,  328,  329. 
Ingenuity,  1S4. 

— ,  Animal,  185. 

—  in  law  making,  306. 
Inheritance  of  acquired  characters,  220, 

221. 
Initial  means  to  social  progress,  316. 
Insects,  Influence  of,  on  plants.  48,  81, 

84. 
— ,  Early  appearance  of,  explained,  1S3. 
Instinct,  The  maternal,   as  a  stimulus 

to  brain  development,  151. 
Instincts  resembling  rational  acts,  185, 

233- 


Instincts,  Imitative,  253. 

Institutions,   Influence  of  human,  156, 

157- 
Integration,  Social,  315. 
Intellect,  The,  222. 

—  a  directive  agent,  vi,  5,  231. 

— ,  Mind  popularly  restricted  to,  3. 
— ,  Practical  side  of,  4,  145,  149. 

—  untrustworthy  unless  instructed,  43. 

—  secondary  to  the  will  and  relatively 

modern,  61,  89,  133. 

—  an  accident,  61,  89,  139,  209. 

—  the  product  of  illegitimate  agencies, 

88,  89. 

—  a  product  and  not  a  cause  of  nature, 

— ,  Origin  of,  133,  136,  141,  305. 

—  a  servant  of  the  will,  139,  148,  155, 

198,  262,  305. 
— ,  Initial  steps  in  the  development  of, 

i4off. 
— ,  Genetic  development  of,   141,    224, 

305- 
— ,  Incipient,  146,  224. 

—  in  animals,  149,  150. 

— ,  Male  and  female  trunks  of  the,  179, 

208. 
■ — ,  Exercise    of,    essentially    inmioral, 

181,  182. 
— ,  point  at  which  it  freed  itself  from 

the  will,  198. 
— ,  how  it  became  part  of  the  will,  198, 

229. 
■ — ■  not  a  force,  222,  23off. 
— ,  Acts  of,  psychoses,  225,  234. 

—  distinguished    from    consciousness, 

226. 

knowledge,  227. 

- — ,  how    it    expresses   itself,    227,    235, 

236. 
— ,  in  what  sense  a  cause,  231. 
— ,  The  two  stimuli  of  the,  232. 
— ■,  Modus  operandi  of  the,  232,  234. 
— ,  The  social,  305,  315. 
Intellection,  227,  305. 
Intellectual  operations,  26,  227. 

—  direction.  Psychology  of,  234. 


Index. 


36  r 


Intellectual  activities,  Classification  of, 

235.  236- 
Intelligence,  229,  230. 
Intensive  sensations,  21,  39. 
Intuition,  29,  133,  138,  139,  169,  170. 
— ,  Incipient,  143. 
— ,  Full,  144. 

—  a  perception  of  relations,  145,  146, 

149,  161,  170,  1S2,  192,  234. 

—  the  incipient  intellect,  146,  224. 

— ,  Male  and  female,  of  equal  import- 
ance, 169,  180. 

—  a  psychological  unit,  172. 
— ,  Popular,  173. 

— ,  Female,  174-180. 

— ,  Positive  or  active,   vs.  negative  or 

passive,  179. 
— ,  Subjective  and  objective,  or  egoistic 

and  disinterested,  191. 

—  undifferentiated  intellect,  224. 

—  compared  to  protoplasm,  224. 
Intuitive  faculty,  5,  29,  133,  282. 

—  perception,  147,  153,  161,  169. 

—  reason,  153,  154,  161,  169. 

—  — ,  The  various  forms  of,  161. 

—  judgment,  169,  174. 

—  —  of  equal  value  with  reason,  169. 

—  —  an  undecomposable  mental  act, 

171,  175,  176. 

—  —  egoistic,  172. 

—  — ,  Deception  not  involved  in,  179. 
Invention,  Essential  nature  of,  vi,  181, 

194,  195. 
— ,  Psychology  of,  190    19^. 

—  objective  or  disinterested  intuition, 

191. 
— ,  Effect  of,  on  character,  192,  193. 

—  vs.  discovery,  202. 

— ,  Mental  aberration  in,  204. 
— ,  Legislation  as,  238,  305-307,  309. 
Inventions,  The  great  progressive,  188. 
Inventive  faculty,  181. 

—  — ,  Origin  of  the,  1S5. 

—  —  compared  with   other  forms   of 

intuition,  190,  193.  • 

—  —  imperfectly  developed  in  women, 

194,  206. 


Inventive   faculty,  Cultivation    of   the, 
196,  203-207. 

—  — ,  Popular  deficiency  of   the,  205, 

206,  207. 
— ■  genius,  196. 

—  —  underlies  scientific  discovery,  202. 
Inventors,  Character  of,  192. 

—  honored  by  the  ancients,  196,  197. 
Iron  law  of  wages,  Ricardo's,  242,  320. 
Itching,  57. 

James,  Edmund  J.,  340. 

— , ,  cited,  265-266. 

Judgment,  27,  126,  137. 
— ,  Intuitive,  169,  174. 

Kant,  Immanuel,  3,  10,  14,  47,  48,  146, 

209,  218,  219,  340. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  12,  15,  71. 
Keely  motor,  204. 
Kepler,  10,  218. 
King,  Clarence,  259,  340. 
Knowledge  necessary  to  safe  reasoning, 

43- 

—  distinguished  from  intellect,  227. 
— ,  Active  vs.  passive,  227. 

— ,  Subjective  and  objective,  227. 
— ,  Experience  a  form  of,  228. 
— ,  Pleasure  in  acquiring,  229. 

Labor,  All,  skilled,  199,  232,  233. 

— ,  Compensation  for  the  hardship  of, 

201. 
— ,  True  meaning  of,  25S. 

—  and  capital,  264. 

— ,  The  struggle  to  escape  productive, 

272. 
Laissez  faire,  241,  319,  349. 

sound  doctrine  in  ethics,  102. 

philosophers,  2S3. 

,  Comte  on,  240. 

,  Spencer  on,  242,  320,  331,  347. 

,  Hu.xley  on,  292. 

,  John  Stuart  Mill  on,  331. 

Lamarck,  Jean,  121. 

Land  animals,  183. 

La  Rochefoucauld,  340,  341,  344. 


;62 


Index. 


La  Rochefoucauld,  cited,  155,  163. 
Le  Conte,  Joseph,  341. 

,  — ,  cited,  221,  240,  292,  314. 

Legislation  as  invention,  238,  305,  306, 

307.  309- 
— ,  Attractive,  306. 
— ,  Scientific,  309,  312,  330. 

—  by  committees,  310. 

—  —  the  executive  branch,  310. 
— ,  The  statistical  method  of,  311. 
Leibnitz,  ii,  10. 

Leroy,  George,  148. 

Lewes,  George  Henry,  27. 

Life,  organic.  Object  of,  75. 

— ,  — ,  Origin  of,  133. 

— ,  Struggle  of,  with  nature,  78. 

Littre,  123,  336. 

Livingstone,  165. 

Locke,  10,  14,  218. 

Logic  as  a  field  for  speculative  genius, 

220. 
Logicians,  Mistakes  of,  170,  171. 
Love,  53. 

—  a  form  of  pain,  54. 

—  the  type  of  the  desires,  94. 

—  compared  to  magnetism,  94. 
Lucretius,  9,  341. 

— ,  cited,  51. 

Lyman,  U.,  159,  341,  344,  345. 

Macaulay,  341. 

— ,  cited,  282. 

Machinery,  Era  of,  188. 

Magnet,  94. 

Magnetism,     Psychic    force    compared 

to,  94. 
Mahar,  164. 

Mainlander,  Philip,  59,  339,  341. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  59. 
Majority  rule,  324,  325. 
Male  fertilizing  agents,  86. 

—  supremacy  an  anomaly,  87. 

—  and    female    intuition    equally    im- 

portant, 169,  180. 
trunks    of    the    intellect,   179, 

208. 
Malthus,  134,  341. 


Malthus,  cited,  242. 

Malthusian  doctrine,  134,  242,  278,  279. 
Mammals,     Male     supremacy    in,    ex- 
plained, 87,  88. 
Man,  Object  of,  78,  79,  80,  130. 
— ,  Physical  inferiority  of,  98. 
— ,  Transformations  wrought  by,  98. 
— ,  Fear  of,  by  animals,  144. 

—  as  a  rational  being,  236. 

—  and  nature.  Methods  of,  contrasted, 

256. 
Manual  training,  207. 
Mars,  -Supposed  artificial  canals  of,  256. 
Martineau,  James,  230. 
Material  civilization  progressive,  201. 
Maternal  instinct  as  a  stimulus  to  brain 

development,  151. 
Mathematics  as  a  field  for  the  specula- 
tive genius,  219,  220. 
Maudsley,  Henry,  342. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  117. 
Means,  Conversion  of,  into  ends,  145, 

234.  235. 
— ,  Initial,  to  social  progress,  316. 
Meliorism,  70,  281. 

—  requires  no  change  in  human  nature, 

289,  308,  328. 

—  a  social,  not  an  ethical  doctrine,  290. 
Memory,  28,  126,  137. 

— ,  Desire  presupposes,  50,  52. 

Mental  physics,  34,  55,  56,  91. 

Metabolism,  40,  234. 

Metaphysics,  10,  91,  218. 

Methods  of  nature  and  man  contrasted, 

256. 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  342. 

— , ,  cited,  155,  174,  331. 

Mind  studied  in  the  inverse  order,   i, 

138. 

—  popularly  restricted  to  intellect,  3. 
— ,  Dual  nature  of,  3,  12,  14,  125. 

— ,  Illogical  classifications  of,  4. 

— ,  Causational  factor  of,  ignored,  4. 

— ,  An   undescribed  faculty  of   the,  4, 

133- 
— ,  Connection     between     the    depart- 
ments of,  14. 


IndL 


ex 


563 


Mind,  Physics  of,  34,  55,  56,  91. 

— ,  Origin  of,  39. 

— ,  Dynamics  of,  91,  129. 

— ,  Era  of,  136,  321,  322. 

— ,  Order  of  development  in,  138. 

— ,  Biological  origin  of,  138,  139. 

—  usually  treated  as  a  special  creation, 

141. 
— ,  Male  and  female  characteristics  of, 

179. 
— ,  Early  speculations  upon,  21S. 
— ,  Onto-  and  phylogenesis  of,  223. 
— ,  The  "mystery"  of,  225. 
— ,  Chief    obstacle    to    the    study    of, 

225. 

—  a  property  of  matter,  225. 

—  in  nature,  23off. 
Mind-forces,  55. 

Misarchists,  The  school  of,  296,  303. 

Misarchy,  317,  321. 

Modes  of  acquisition.      See  acqicisitiou. 

Monarchy,  316. 

Monopoly,  Forms  pf,  167,  16S,  265. 

— ,  Antidotes  to,  239. 

—  prices,  265,  322,  327. 

—  prevents  waste,  266. 
— ,  Natural,  329. 
Montaigne,  342. 

— ,  cited,  V. 

Moral  sense,  The,  22. 

—  — ,  — ,  dulled,  by  iteration   of   pre- 

cepts, 106. 

—  laws  self-executing,  102,  107,  loS. 

—  precepts.  No  improvement  in,  105. 

—  cowardice,  106,  107. 

—  teaching.    Demoralizing    effect    of, 

106,  107. 

—  progress,  The  real,  112,  113. 

—  — ,  Negative  vs.  positive,  113. 
Morals  the  effect,  not  the  cause  of  the 

social  state,  107,  108. 

More,  Sir  Thomas,  342. 

— , ,  cited,  155,  314,  315. 

Mosquito,  The  male,  little  known,  87. 

Motion,  Perpetual,  204. 

Motor  apparatus  of    the   nervous  sys- 
tem, xo. 


Motors,  Alleged  self-acting,  204. 
Multiplication  of  chances,  250. 
Mystery  of  mind,  225. 
— ,  Properties    of    matter    all    involve, 

225. 
Mythology,  Origin  of,  217. 

Natural  vs.  artificial,  vi,  286. 
• — •  selection,  200,  201,  251. 

—  laws.  Uniformity  of,  243. 

—  economy,  245. 

—  monopoly,  329. 

Nature  and  life.  The  struggle  between, 

78. 
— ,  Object  of,  78,  79,  80,  129,  130. 
— ,  Heart  of,  92. 
■ — ,  Plead  of,  93. 
— -,  Unseen  powers  of,  214,  216. 
— ,  Mind  in,  230  ff. 

—  easily  managed,  232. 

— ,  Economics  of,  239,  250,  251,  256. 
— ,  Prodigality  of,  239,  246,  253. 

—  at  once  practical  and  prodigal,  251. 
— ,  Failures  and  successes  of,  251-253. 
— •  imitates  mind,  253. 

—  and   man.   Methods  of,  contrasted, 

256. 

—  has  no  true  economy,  256. 
Necessaries,    Relativity    of    the    term, 

157- 
Nerves,  Afferent  and  efferent,  30. 
Nervous    system,    Cerebro-spinal    and 

sympathetic,  23,  24. 

a  compound  individual,  32. 

Neurosis  and  psychosis,  225,  234. 

— ,  Cerebral,  227. 

Newberry,  J.  S.,  84,  85,  342. 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  10,  218. 

Nichols,  Herbert,  21,  342. 

— ,  — ,  cited,  8,  139. 

Nihilism,  224. 

— ,  Administrative,  292. 

Nisus,  The  universal,  55. 

Normal  and  e.xtra-normal  development, 

82. 
Nutrition,  Pleasure  a  guide  to,  40. 
Nuts,  Origin  of,  86. 


)64 


hidex. 


Object  and  subject,  Antithesis  of,  17. 

—  of  organic  life,  75. 
sentient  beings,  78. 

nature,  78,  79,  So,  129,  130. 

man,  78,  79,  80,  130. 

society,  80,  130. 

the  organism,  129. 

— •  —  evolution,  129. 
Objective  and  subjective  psychology,  3, 
5,  17,  25,  62,  125. 

— • evolution,  183. 

intuition,  191. 

knowledge,  227. 

—  factors  of  civilization,  131. 

Occult  phenomena  of  the  universe,  216. 

Odors,  Theory  of,  18. 

Omitted  factor  of  civilization,  133. 

Ontogenesis  of  mind,  223. 

Ontological    obstacle    to    the  study  of 

mind,  225. 
Optimism,  True  meaning  of,  66. 

—  not  the  antidote  to  pessimism,  70. 
— ,  Normal  effects  of,  158,  165. 
Optimistic  hallucination,  65. 

Oral  communication,  236. 
Organic  life.  Object  of,  75. 

—  development,  82. 
Organism,  Object  of  the,  129. 
Organization  of  happiness,  30S. 
Orientalism,  40. 
Ornamentation,  1S7. 

Owen,  Dr.  W.  1!.,  343. 

Pain,  Natural  genesis  of,  8. 

—  protective,  40. 

—  essentially  bad,  42,  43. 

— ,  Negative  and  positive,  50. 

— ,  Desire  a  form  of,  54. 

— ,  Ordinary,  distinguished  from  desire, 

56-       ' 
- — ,  Nature  indifferent  to,  182. 

—  and    pleasure.      See   pleasure   and 

pain. 
Pain-nerves,  21. 
Pain-pleasure,  21. 
Pain-sense,  Feeling  a,  21. 
Palestine,  9. 


Pangs  of  hunger,  40,  54. 

Paradoxes,  Economic,  277-279. 

Parasitism,  Social,  167. 

Party  government,  325. 

— ,  An  industrial,  in  America,  328,  329. 

Parwari,  164. 

Pascal,  Blaise,  343. 

— ,  — ,  cited,  9,  50,  63,  239,  305. 

Pastoral  stage,  186. 

Patten,  Simon  N.,  120,  343. 

— , ,  cited,  266-271. 

Percept,  17. 

Perception,  17,  25,  26,  126,  137. 

—  of  relations,  145,  146,  149,  161,  170, 

182,  192,  234. 
— •   • —  truth,  170. 

—  —  utility,  192,  196,  199,  207. 
— ,  Intuitive,  147,  153,  161,  169. 
Perceptions,   Registration  and  elabora- 
tion of,  26. 

Perfection,  Structural,  a  means,  not  an 

end,  75. 
Perpetual  motion,  204. 
Persia,  Cosmology  of,  9. 
Pessimism,  78. 
— ,  Ultimate  answer  to,  40. 
— ,  Claims  of,  58. 
— ,  Schopenhauer's,  60. 
— ,  Refutation  of,  63. 

—  denies  the  existence  of  pleasure,  64. 
■ — ■  the   product  of   a  hostile  environ- 
ment, 69. 

— ,  its  antidote  not  optimism  but  melior- 
ism, 70. 
Phenicia,  Cosmology  of,  9. 
Philippine  Islanders,  164. 
Philosophy,  Two  kinds  of,  9. 
• — ;  German  school  of,  10. 
— ,  Scottish  school  of,  10,  14. 
— ,  Revolutions  in,  11,  48. 

—  limited   to   the  derivative  faculties, 

209. 
— ,  True  scope  of,  215. 
I'hylogenesis  of  mind,  223. 
Physics  of  mind,  34,  55,  56,  91. 
— ,  Social,  130. 
Physiocracy,  318. 


Index. 


365 


Physiocrats,  241,  318,  336,  337. 

Pinnated  grouse,  145,  149. 

Plant-lice,  Fecundity  of,  247. 

Plants  that  seem  .to  act  rationally,  185. 

Plastic,  Survival  of  the,  259,  340. 

Plato,  ID,  13,  218. 

Platonic  idea,  13,  27. 

Pleasure  and  pain.  Origin  and  Function 

of,  36. 

— not  necessary,  38. 

— conditions  to  the  existence  of 

plastic  organisms,  38,  39. 

— not  opposites,  41. 

— both  positive,  42. 

— ,  Nature  indifferent  to,  42. 

—  —  — ,  Specialized  nerves  of,  42. 
— ,  Spencer  on,  43. 

— -,  Hartmann  on,  64,  69. 

— ,  Schopenhauer  on,  64,  69,  181. 

— ,  Purpose  of,  127. 

— ,  Relative  amounts  of,  in  the 

world,  181. 

—  a  greater  mystery  than  pain,  38. 
— ,  Genesis  of,  40. 

—  essentially  good,  43. 

— ,  Presentative  and  representative,  57, 

67,  68. 
— ,  Existence  of,  requires  proof,  66. 
— ,  Physiological  nature  of,  68. 

—  an  objective  reality,  69. 
— ,  Esthetic,  213. 

Pliny  the  Younger,  343. 

,  cited,  51. 

Plutarch,  343. 

— ,  cited,  195,  343. 

Plutocracy,  319-323. 

Political    economy.  The  old,  134,  243, 

244. 

, ,  A.xioms  of,  277. 

, only  applicable  to  animals, 

279. 
,  • favorable    to    plutocracy, 

319- 
based  on  the  uniformity  of  natural 

phenomena,  243. 
Pollen,  Superabundance  of,  247. 
Pope,  Alexander,  341,  343,  344. 


Pope,  Alexander,  cited,  103,  132. 

Population,  Principle  of,  242,  280. 

Postal  telegraphy,  326. 

Poverty,  Universal  dread  of,  165. 

Powell,  J.  W.,  344. 

— , ,  cited,  215. 

Practical  character  of  the  intellect,  4, 
145,  149. 

— ,  I^efinition  of  the,  211. 

—  vs.  fine  art,  211. 

— ,  In  what  sense  nature  is,  251. 

Prairie  hen,  145,  149. 

Presentative  pleasure,  57,  67. 

Prodigality  of  nature,  239,  246-253. 

Production,  True  meaning  of,  258. 

Progress,  The  true  moral,  112,  113. 

— ,  Conditions  to,  132. 

— ,  Comparative  rapidity  of  human,  282. 

— ,  Definition  of,  287. 

— ,  Initial  means  to  social,  316. 

Properties  of  matter  all  involve  mys- 
tery, 225. 

Property,  Genesis  of,  156. 

Proposition,  Definition  of  a  logical,  27. 

Protoplasm,  224. 

Provision,  156,  184. 

Prudence  as  a  female  trait,  180. 

Psychic  force  a  form  of  the  universal 
force,  56. 

compared  to  magnetism,  94. 

electricity,  95. 

,  Direct  proof  of  a,  95. 

—  not  parallel   with   biologic  develop- 

ment, 144. 

—  attraction,  145. 
Psychics,  56,  129. 
Psychogenesis,  223. 

Psychologic  basis  of  .sociology,  2,  11,  97. 

—  process,  The,  1 5. 

—  law  the  reverse  of  the  biologic,  200, 

201,  259. 

—  economics,  244,  277. 
Psychology,    Subjective   and   objective, 

3,  5,  17,  62,  125,  219. 
— ,  — ,  20,  62,  93,  97,  121,  126,  219. 
— ,  Illogical  classifications  of,  4. 
— ,  Theorems  of,  5. 


366 


Index. 


Psychology,  The  new,  5,  224. 

—  distinguished  from  metaphysics,  9, 

224. 
— ,  Objective,  25,  62. 

—  of  invention,  190. 

— ,  Origin  of  modern,  218. 
— ,  Chief  obstacle   to   the  progress  of, 
225. 

—  of  intellectual  direction,  234. 
Psychometry,  65. 

Psychosis  and  neurosis,  225,  227.  234. 
Publius  Syrus,  344. 

,  cited,  159,  345. 

Pythagoras,  9. 

Quatrefages,  247. 
Quesnay,  336,  337,  345. 
— ,  cited,  241. 

Rafflesia,  252. 
Railroad  "deals,"  168,  265. 
Rational  actions,  33,  236. 
Rats,  Sagacity  of,  1 44,  1 53. 
Real  estate  "booms,"  167. 
Reason,  28,  137,  236. 

—  not  a  safe  guide,  33. 
— ,  Sufficient,  60,  216. 

—  of  inferior  rank  to  will,  61. 
— ,  Intuitive,  153,  154,  161,  169. 
Reasoning,  Abstract,  220. 
Recapitulation  of  Part  I,  125. 
Reflex  action,  31. 

Reform,    Social,  a  constant   necessity, 

100,  lOI. 
— ,  The  female  idea  of,  177. 
— ,  Governmental,  283,  2S4. 

—  Spirit  of,  irrepressible,  287. 
Reformers,  Social,  99. 

— ,  — ,  Impatience  with,  283. 
— ,  Women  as,  177,  178. 
Refutation  of  pessimism,  63. 
Regulation  vs.  competition,  275. 
Reid,  Thomas,  10,  14,  173,  345. 
Religion  hedonistic,  43. 
Representative  pleasure,  57,  68. 
Reproduction,  Conditions  to,  41. 

—  not  the  object  of  sex,  41,  86. 


Reproduction  a  form  of  nutrition,  86. 

Republics,  316. 

Ricardo,  134,  320,  345. 

— ,  cited,  242. 

Riley,  C.  V.,  350. 

"  Rings,"  Municipal,  167. 

Rivalry,  53,  275. 

Ross,  E.  A.,  278. 

Ruffed  grouse,  149. 

Rumbold,  Richard,  282. 

Russia,  Social  condition  of,  300. 

Sagacity,  29,  128,  148,  152. 
— ,  Synonyms  of,  153. 
St.  Augustine,  9. 
Salluste,  Guillaume  de,  ^^y]. 
Satisfaction  of  desire,  55,  65. 
Satz  vom  Grunde,  60. 
Schelling,  345. 
— ,  cited,  59. 
Schiaparelli,  256. 

Schopenhauer,  Arthur,  60,  62,  64,  69^ 
89,    92,    181,   209,    213,   282,   292, 

293.  345.  346. 
— ,  — ,  cited,   I,  25,  y],  51,  59,  63,  117,. 

133'   139.   147.  148,   155'  197.  I98.. 
222.   . 
Scientific  discovery,  202,  203. 

—  methods,  221. 

—  legislation,  309,  312,  330. 
Scipio  the  Younger,  45. 

Scottish  school  of  philosophy,  10,  14- 

Self-interest,  Universality  of,  158. 

Sensation,  16,  20. 

— ,  Indifferent,  16,  39. 

— ,  Intensive,  21. 

— ,  Kant  on,  47,  48. 

—  defined,  125. 

Sensations,  Internal  and  external,  23. 

— ,  Classification  of,  125. 

Sense,  The  sixth,  22. 

— ,  —  emotional,  22,  23,  126,  127. 

Senses,  18,  19,  126. 

— ,  Media  of  the,  19. 

Sensori-motor  apparatus,  31,  33. 

Sentiency,  39. 

Sentient  beings,  Object  of,  78. 


Index, 


2,^7 


Sex,  Object  of,  41,  ?)6. 

Sexes,  Inequality  of  the,  and  its  cause, 

49. 
Sexual  differentiation,  S6. 
Shakespeare,  122. 
Shelter,  187. 

Shrewdness,  155,  158,  159. 
Sight,  Sense  of,  19. 
Silence,  The  art  of,  159,  349. 
Simplicity  of  important  truths,  118. 
Sinnlichkeit,  47. 
Sixth  sense,  22. 
Smell,  Sense  of,  18,  19. 
Smith,  Adam,  241,  346. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  241. 
— ,  Eugene,  85. 
Social  forces,  vi,  116. 
,  Nature  of  the,  i,  81. 

—  ■ — ,  Control  of  the,  i,  5,  115. 

,  Psychologic  basis  of  the,  2. 

,  Classification  of  the,  116. 

,  Adumbrations  of  the  principle  of, 

116,  117. 

,  History    of    the    conception    of, 

iiS,  119. 

—  statics  and  dynamics,  i. 

—  action,  96,  97,  98,  103,  104,  288. 

—  reforms  and  reformers,  99,  loi,  283. 

—  inadaptation,  100. 

—  classes,  loi. 

—  friction,  102,  2S8,  309. 

—  energy.  Liberation  of,  114. 

—  organism  theory,  122,  274,  297-299, 

315- 316. 

—  transformations,  129. 

—  physics,  130. 

—  parasitism,  167. 

—  synthesis  of  the  factors  of  civiliza- 

tion, 237. 

—  consciousness,  291,  315. 

—  units,  293. 

—  aggregates,  294. 

—  will.  The,  300. 

—  homogeneity.  Importance  of,  301. 

—  intellect.  The,  305,  315. 

—  science  vs.  social  art,  314,  315. 

—  integration,  315. 


Social  progress.  Initial  means  to,  316. 

—  problems,  326,  330,  331. 
Socialism,  328,  330. 

Society,    Dynamic    and    directive    ele- 
ments of,  vi,  5,  230,  231,  233. 
— ,  Object  of,  80,  130. 

—  the  beneficiary  of  social  action,  98. 

—  unconscious,  99. 

—  only  an  idea,  99. 

— ,  Reforms  in,  100,  loi. 

—  not  rational,  273. 

—  represents  a  low  organism,  274. 

—  as  an  individual,  324. 
Sociocracy,  313,  323, 

—  a  modification  of  democracy,  324. 
— ,  how  it  will  operate,  326,  330. 

—  requires  no  change  in  human  nature, 

328. 
Sociology,  Psychologic  basis  of,  2,  11, 

97- 
— ,  Standpoint  of,  the  opposite  of  that 

of  ethics.  III. 

—  founded  and  named  by  Comte,  121- 

123. 
— ,  Biologic  basis  of  Herbert  Spencer's, 

122,  134,  243. 
— ,  Dynamic.     See  dyiiatnic  sociology. 
Socrates,  10. 
Solon,  312,  339,  346. 
Sophocles,  346. 
— ,  cited,  312,  346. 
Soul,  83,  92. 
— ,  Speculations  on  the  nature  of,  13. 

—  a  popular,  not  a  technical  term,  44. 
— ,  Proper  meaning  of  the  term,  44,  46. 
— ,  Reasons  for  retaining  the  word,  45. 

—  always  endowed  with  feeling,  46. 
— ,  Geological  development  of  the,  48. 
— ,  Origin  of  the,  48,  83,  133,  135. 

—  the  transforming  agent,  200. 
South,  Robert,  cited,  349. 
Sowrahs,  164. 

Speculation,    History  of  metaphysical, 

10. 
Speculations    in    grain    defended,    241, 

242. 
Speculative  genius,  214. 


;68 


Index. 


Speech,  236. 

—  and  silence,  The  art  of,  1 59. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  43,  104,  105,  iii,  121, 

122,  134,  164,  165,  182,  207,  242, 
243'  314.  320,  331,  346,  347- 

— ,  — ,  cited,  15,  16,  36,  50,  71,  91,  103, 
107,  116,  163,  171,  175,  176,  197, 
230,  231,  238,  245,  248,  249. 

Spiders,  Female  superiority  in,  87. 

Spinoza,  10,  105,  122,  347. 

— ,  cited,  30,  43,  50,  147. 

Stages  in  civilization,  186. 

Stanley,  Hiram  M.,  359. 

— , ,  cited,  21,  37,  47,  138. 

State   functions,     Limitation    of.      See 
laissez  /aire. 

Statesman,  Definition  of  a,  312. 

Statics,  Social,  i. 

Statistics,  Function  of,  311. 

Steam,  Discovery  of  the  power  of, 
188. 

Stewart,  Dugald,  10,  14. 

Stock-watering  schemes,  167. 

Stoics,  9,  105. 

Strategy,  161,  306. 

Struggle  for  existence,  156,  157,  16S. 
244. 

Subject  and  object.  Antithesis  of,  17. 

Subjective  and  objective  psychology,  3, 
5,  17,  62,  125,  219. 

evolution,  83. 

intuition,  191. 

knowledge,  227. 

—  factors,  7. 

—  psychology,  20,  62,  93,  97,  121,  126, 

219. 

Subsistence  and  the  means  of  subsist- 
ence, 156,  157. 

Sufficient  reason,  60,  216. 

Sully,  James,  338,  348. 

— ,  — ,  cited,  281. 

Sumner,  W.  G.,  loi,  34S,  350. 

Supererogatory  conduct,  108. 

Survival  of  the  fittest,  168,  244,  251. 

— plastic,  259,  340. 

Sympathetic  nervous  system,  23,  24. 

Syrus,  Publius.     See  Publius  Syrus. 


Tact,  155. 
Talleyrand,  349. 
Tameness  of  animals,  144. 
Taming  of  animals,  186. 
Taste,  Sense  of,  18,  19,  40. 

—  in  animals,  88. 
Taylor,  Jeremy,  348. 
— ,  — ,  cited,  64. 

— ,  Sir  Henry,  348. 

— ,  —  — ,  cited,  206. 

Telegraphy,  Postal,  326. 

Teleological  vs.  genetic  processes,  vi. 

Teleology,  Evolutionary,  75. 

Thales,  9. 

Theology,  Origin  of,  217. 

Theorems  of  psychology,  5. 

Thirst,  53. 

Thought,  The  raw  material  for,  30. 

—  a  form  of  feeling,  226. 
— ,  The  stream  of,  226. 

Tips,    Politico-economic    meaning    of, 

no. 
Tocqueville,  De,  230. 
Touch,  Sense  of,  ig. 
Transcendental  biology,  242. 
Transformations    wrought    by    human 

action,  90,  98,  129. 
Transforming   agencies,    49,    128,    135, 

200. 
Transmission    of    acquired    characters, 

220,  221. 
Trusts,  167,  265. 
Truth  defined,  27. 
— ,  Perception  of,  170. 
— ,  Value  of,  for  its  own  sake,  203. 
Truths,  Slow  progress  of  great,  123. 
— ,  Simplicity  of  important,  118. 
Turgot,  241,  336,  337,  338,  348,  349. 
Tylor,  E.  B.,  45. 

Uganda,  Untruthfulness  of  the  people 

of,  164. 
Unconscious,    Society   to   be    regarded 

as,  99. 

—  cerebration,  226. 

— ,  The,  of  Hartmann,  226,  293. 
Units,  Social,  293. 


Index, 


369 


Universe,    Occult   phenomena   of    the, 

214,  216. 
Utility,  Biological,  76. 
— ,  Perception  of,  192,  196,  199,  207. 
Variation  as  the  object  of  sex,  41,  86. 
Veracity,  Spencer  on,  163-165. 
Vibrations,  Hartley's  theory  of,  20,  339. 
Volta,  203. 
Voltaire,  60,  349. 
— ,  cited,  159. 
Voluntary  action,  30. 
Vulpinism,  150. 

Wages,    Ricardo's   iron    law    of,    242, 

320. 
Wallace,  Alfred  Russel,  215. 
Waning  types  of  life,  252,  253. 
Want,  53. 

War  as  a  stimulus  to  mind,  161,  187. 
Wealth  a  test  of  worth,  166. 
— ,  Unequal  distribution  of,  2S7. 
Weapons,  Natural    and    artificial,   187, 

188,  254. 
Weismann,  August,  38,  41,  86,  220,  221, 

351.  352- 
— ,  — ,  cited,  26,  27,  245. 


Whately,  ISishop,  170,  352. 

— ,  — ,  cited,  171. 

Will,  3c,  34,  35. 

Will,  Early  views  of  the,  13. 

—  a  popular,  not  a  technical  term,  44. 
— :  of  Schopenhauer,  59,  92,  282. 

— equivalent  to  desire,  60,  61. 

—  to  live.  Assertion  of  the,  61. 
— ,  Denial  of  the,  213. 

— ,  Intellect  a  servant  of  the,  139,  148, 

155,  198,  262,  305. 
— ,  The  social,  300. 
Wille,  6c,  61. 

Wolf,  Sagacity  of  the,  148,  152. 
Woman,  Worth  of,  93,  i8o. 
— ,  Conservatism  of,  174,  177,  178,  194. 
— ,  Caution  of,  176. 

—  not  inventive,  194,  206. 
Woman's  intuition,  174. 
Women  as  reformers,  177,  178. 
Worth,  of  woman,  93,  180. 

— ,  Wealth  as  a  test  of,  166. 
Written  communication,  236. 

Youmans,  E.  L.,  352. 
— , ,  cited,  248. 


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